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The Countess Radna 


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BY 


W«v^AnORRIS 

AUTHOR OF “ADRIEN VIDAL,” “MR. CHAINE’s SONS,” “MYSTERIOUS 
MRS. WILKINSON,” “ THIRLBY HALL,” ETC. 


jyPVnGtfr/ 

"p EB 26 1894 






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NEW YORK ^ '*~ 

LOVELL, CORYELL & COMPANY 

3 IO-3 1 S SIXTH AVENUE 





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Copyright, 1893, 



UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY, 


[A// rights reserved. \ 


/ 







CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. 

I. — The Hero Meets the Heroine, 

II. — The Countess Receives, 

III. — Enghien, 

IV. — A Qualified Congis, .... 

V. — Peggy Rowley, 

VI. — Douglas Keeps His Appointment, 

VII. — On the Pic De Nethou, 

VIII. — The Results of a Thunderstorm, 

IX. — Gardening and Philosophy, . 

X. — An Accomplished Fact, 

XI. — Failures and Successes, 

XII. — The Countess’s Benevolence, . 

XIII. — Ce Que Femme Veut, . 

XIV. — Cutting the Knot, .... 
XV. — In the Dark, ...... 

XVI.— Sans Rancune, 

XVII. — The Marchese Di Leonforte, 

XVIII.— The Countess Gains a Champion, 

XIX. — Douglas’s Confidants, . . . . 

XX. — Lady Florence, 

XXI. — Douglas Becomes Important, 

XXII. — The Amiability of Lady Winkfield, 
XXIII. — The Horrible Galashiels Creature, . 
XXIV. — The Rival Runners, .... 
XXV. — Frank’s Friends Stand Aside, 


PAGE. 

5 

15 

22 

3 2 

• 39 
47 

• 57 
66 

• 73 
80 

. 89 

98 
. 106 

116 
. 124 

X 3 T 
. 140 

149 

• *57 
163 

. 172 

180 
, 189 

198 
. 205 


VI 


CONTENTS . 


CHAPTER. PAGE. 

XXVI. — HotooR and Glory, 214 

XXVII. — The Countess’s Emissary, .... 223 

XXVIII. — Diplomatic Negotiations, .... 230 

XXIX. — At Brentford House, . . . . . 239 

XXX. — Frank Takes Decisive Steps, .... 247 

XXXI. — Lord Burcote Does His Duty, . . . 255 

XXXII. — A Bloodless Encounter, 264 

XXXIII. — Drawing-Room Diplomacy, .... 272 

XXXIV.— Love Turns Sour, 281 

\ 

XXXV. — Leonforte Does What Seems Practicable, . 289 

XXXVI. — At Hurlingiiam, 298 

XXXVII. — Incorruptible Peter, 305 

XXXVIII. — Frank Takes a Constitutional, . . 314 

XXXIX. — Dr. Schott Pronounces Sentence, . . 322 

XL. — The Countess Deals with the Situation, . 331 

XLI.— Lady Florence Yields Twice, . . . 338 

XLII.— Douglas Pays a Friendly Call, . . . 346 

XLIII. — Leonforte Smei.ls a Rat, .... 355 

XLIV.— Paternal Authority, 364 

XLV.— Sanity and Lunacy, 373 

XLVI. — Loo Colborne’s Letter, 381 

XLVII. — Reconciliation, 390 

XLVIII. — Mrs. Colborne Feels No Anxiety, . . 398 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE HERO MEETS THE HEROINE. 

1 1 Colborne — Douglas Colborne?” said his Excellency 
the British Ambassador to the French Republic. “No, l 
don’t remember ever to have heard of him before ; still 
that is no fault of his, and I daresay he is all right. Even 
if he isn't all right, it doesn’t much matter. By all means 
ask him to your horrid crush.” 

Lady Royston, the Ambassador’s wife, who was seated 
at her writing-table, was a tall, graceful woman, not so 
very many years younger than her gray-headed little hus- 
band as she looked. “I was wondering,” said she, 
“whether we ought not, perhaps, to ask him to dinner. 
He called yesterday and left a letter of introduction from 
Peggy Rowley. • She says ” 

“Oh,” interrupted Sir Edmund Royston, with a laugh, 
“ what she says is of no consequence. From the moment 
that Peg Rowley answers for him, we are bound to accept 
him. Tell her, with my love, that her friend shall be 
looked after and that everything shall be done to make 
his stay in Paris pleasant. That is, unless he is an in- 
quiring iM. P. or a man with ideas about European politics 
who writes for reviews — in either of which cases you will 
have to undertake him. You might intimate to Peg that 
it is as much as my place is worth to mix myself up with 
people of that kind, and that I really can’t do it, even to 
please her.” 

But Mr. Colborne, it appeared, was not a person of 
that kind, After her husband had left her, Lady Royston 


6 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


glanced again at the open letter, which lay before her, and 
which seemed to classify the stranger in a few graphic 
touches : — 

“ I hope you will be kind to him, and introduce him to 
anybody worth knowing ; for he rather requires intro- 
ductions to those who are worth knowing, having hitherto 
led the healthy but narrow sort of life that most young 
Englishmen of good birth lead. They are sure to like 
him, and so are you ; because he is very nice in every 
way. Clever, too, and with distinct ambitions — which isn't 
a disadvantage. His mother considers him remarkably 
good-looking, and there are moments when I almost 
agree with her. At any rate, he has good manners, and 
he has lately succeeded to a property near this which 
ought to be worth more than it is, and he has resigned 
his commission in the Guards in order to look after it, and 
I shouldn’t wonder if he were to get into Parliament one 
of these days- — and I believe that is about all. Don’t cold- 
shoulder him. You will hurt his feelings, if you do, not 
to speak of mine; fori am fond of his mother and his 
sisters, and I want him to be a credit to them. He can’t 
be expected to do credit to anybody or anything until he 
has seen a little more of the world than he has at present.” 

After that, the very least that Lady Royston could do 
was to take care that a card of invitation to her forth- 
coming reception should be despatched to Mr. Colborne’s 
hotel. She thought it might be as well just to have a 
look at him before taking further steps ; because in these 
days the utmost circumspection is, unhappily, necessary, 
and it can no longer be deemed an absolute guarantee of 
fitness for the highest circles to have held a commission 
in the Guards, or even to be a friend and neighbor of 
Peggy Rowley’s. 

However, the misgivings of this experienced lady were 
satisfactorily dispelled before she had exchanged a dozen 
observations with the hero of the present narrative. 
Douglas Colborne, it may at once be stated, is only 
presented to the reader as a hero in the sense of having 
been the chief personage affected by certain events and 
episodes : nobody has ever thought of calling him heroic, 
nor, if there was a substratum of heroism in his character, 
was it of that nature which appeals to popular enthusiasm 
and is rewarded by laurel wreaths. But everybody who 
knew him admitted that he was a thorough gentleman. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


7 


and Lady Royston, without knowing him at all, admitted 
as much as soon as she saw him and heard his voice. He 
approached her on the evening of her reception, thread- 
ing his way through the gold-laced and ribboned official 
throng which had congregated near the doorway, with 
the easy, assured air of one who knows that he is in 
his proper place and is consequently free from any em- 
barrassing consciousness of his own personality. He 
was a tall, spare young man, with dark hair and iron-gray 
eyes, not exactly handsome, yet as near being so as any 
male specimen of the race can be required to be, and his 
clothes fitted well, and he had a pleasant, honest sort of 
smile. He shook hands with his hostess, and, as in duty 
bound, said something about their common friend, Miss 
Rowley ; after which Lady Royston inquired whether he 
had come to Paris for any special purpose or merely as a 
tourist. 

“Oh, I’m a mere tourist, ” he answered, laughing ; “I 
haven’t many ideas as yet and I haven't come here in 
search of them, though, of course, I shouldn’t mind picking 
up* any that might be going. It was Miss Rowley who 
urged me to cross the Channel by way of widening my 
mental horizon. She has an impression— I’m sure I don’t 
know whether it is a correct one or not — that Paris is the 
centre of modern civilization.” 

“That is the usual impression,” Lady Royston observed. 
“ Most likely Peggy is right, for she almost always is, and 
I suppose there can be no doubt that society is rather 
more cosmopolitan here than it is in London ; but I can’t 
speak from personal knowledge, because I am not allowed 
to make acquaintance with people, I am only allowed to 
look at them. You would like to make acquaintance with 
them, perhaps ? ” 

“Well, yes,” replied the young man ; “ I think I should 
• — if they are worth the trouble. ” 

“ Some of them are. There is the Countess Radna, for 
instance, who is quite cosmopolitan. She is the most 
beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life, besides being 
fabulously rich, absolutely independent, and rather eccen- 
tric. She delights in new types, I am told, and probably 
you would strike her as a new type, though I won’t promise 
that she shall be delighted with you. Would you care to 
take the chance?” 

To such an invitation only one response was possible, 


8 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


•and Douglas Colborne made it with the more alacrity 
because he was eager to see with his own eyes and hear 
with his own ears what foreigners (he did not imagine 
that there was any very important difference between one 
kind of foreigner and another) were like when you came 
to talk to them. Presently, therefore, he was making his 
best bow to the most beautiful woman whom Lady Roys- 
ton had ever seen in her life. 

Was she the most beautiful woman whom he had ever 
seen in the course of his more limited experience ? He 
really thought that she was ; certainly, she was not at all 
like the rest of the world. Her wavy brown hair was 
drawn up and back from her low, broad forehead ; her 
eyes were of that dark-blue color which is rarely seen 
out of Ireland ; her complexion was almost unnaturally 
perfect (though the credit of having produced it belonged 
to Nature alone) ; her little straight nose, her short upper 
lip, and her rounded chin proclaimed the nobility of her 
birth, as did also the poise of her head and the grace of 
her movements. She had some diamonds of great size 
round her neck and in her hair, otherwise her c(5stume 
was simple enough — or, at all events, it appeared so to 
him. She reminded him of certain miniatures, represent- 
ing beauties of the last century, which he had always 
hitherto set down as over-flattering to the deceased ladies. 
It now seemed quite upon the cards that the Countess 
Radna’s great-grandmother might have been accurately 
portrayed by one of them. Having met nobody at all 
resembling her before, he naturally did not know what to . 
make of her ; but she, apparently, was troubled by no such 
difficulty as regarded him, for, after a rapid survey of his 
person, she asked, with a smile, and without a trace of 
accent, “ Oxford or Cambridge ? ” 

‘ 1 Well, if you put it in that way, Oxford, ” he replied. 

“ Nevertheless, I took my degree nearly three years ago. 
Do I look so very juvenile ? ” 

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. “It is the most 
excusable of all defects, and, such as it is, you will not 
suffer from it long enough to find it wearisome. Three 
years ago, you say ? And since then ? ” 

“Since then, I have been a sort of a soldier, and now I 
am nothing at all, except a country gentleman in a humble 
way. But I daresay you don’t know what that means.” 
“Not very distinctly, because I have never been in 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


9 


England, but I have met many Englishmen and read in- 
numerable books about your island. I think I can guess 
what a country gentleman is. As a general rule, he needs 
some other vocation than that, does he not? You have 
cgme to Paris to seek for one, perhaps?” 

“No ; only to divert myself, and to pick up stray scraps 
of information and experience. I brought a letter of intro- 
duction to Lady Royston, who, as you see, is passing me 
on to her friends. So much the worse for her friends, you 
will say. ” 

‘ ‘ Why should I say so ! On the contrary, I congratu- 
late myself upon the honor of being included among 
Lady Royston ’s friends. Do you speak French at all? ” 

“Only when I can’t help it ; but I understand what is 
said to me.” 

“Then you are more fortunate than I am. I very often 
fail to understand what is said to me ; but I am too good 
a linguist to refrain from talking when I should do better 
to hold my tongue. I asked the question because I was 
wondering whether, if you are disengaged, you would 
care to dine with me to-morrow evening and meet a few 
celebrities. They are famous without deserving fame, 
most of them ; still, they are amusing in their way, and, 
as they would a great deal rather entertain you than be 
entertained by you, you won’t have to exert yourself if 
you come.” 

Mr. Colborne accepted the invitation unhesitatingly, 
and was endeavoring to express his gratitude in fitting 
terms when she interrupted him rather brusquely by say- 
ing, “Very well; eight o’clock, then. Avenue Friedland 
— every cab-driver in Paris knows the house.” 

“ So that you yourself are quite as celebrated as your 
guests, I suppose ? ” 

“Oh, I suppose so. Paris is a small place — much 
smaller than London ; and I am a big personage — much 
bigger than I look. Everybody will tell you that, if you 
will make inquiries ; only they won’t be able to tell you 
why I am big, because neither they nor I know. Prob- 
ably it is because I am considered odd, and because 
oddity is fashionable.” 

He would have liked to ask her in what her oddity con- 
sisted, but she gave him no opportunity of prosecuting 
his researches, for she now turned away to speak to one 
of the high official gentlemen who had been hovering near 


IO 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


her during the above colloquy, and he was fain to apply 
for further information to a second Secretary of Embassy, 
Lindsay by name, with whom he had some slight ac- 
quaintance. Mr. Lindsay knew all about the Countess 
Radna, and was willing to tell all that he knew. 

“She is an heiress of the very first water,” said he, 
“one of those heiresses who can’t "be produced out of the 
Austro-Hungarian Empire, and aren’t produced very freely 
there, because, as a general rule, Hungarian Counts, like 
other people, manage to have sons. The late Count 
Radna didn’t manage to accomplish' that feat, and the 
consequence is that the.lady who has asked you to dinner — 
it isn’t everybody whom she asks to dinner, let me tell 
you — has larger estates and a vast deal more money 
than the common run of European royalties. Odd ? Oh, 
well, I don’t know that there is anything particularly odd 
about her, except that she is still single and that it isn’t 
over and above easy to get even with her. Of course 
she gives herself airs — any woman in her position and 
with her face would — but she hasn’t earned a character 
for being specially emancipee so far. However, I can’t 
pretend to be among her intimates. I have known her 
ever since she came to Paris, about six months ago, but 
she hasn’t asked me to dine yet, and I imagine that she 
never will. What made her ask you to dine, do you sup- 
pose ? ” 

Douglas Colborne was quite unable to say. He deemed 
it probable that he owed the honor conferred upon him to 
his obscurity ; but this suggestion was scouted by the 
young diplomatist, who assured him that the Countess 
had no fancy for cyphers. 

“ Then, ” said he, “perhaps she asked me because she 
has a fancy for new types. Lady Royston told me that 
she had, and thought I might present myself to her in the 
light of one.” 

“Ah, yes, that may be,” agreed Mr. Lindsay, whose 
vanity may have been soothed by the hypothesis ; “yes, 
you would naturally strike her as being rather raw. 
Which you are, you know, if you’ll excuse my saying so. 
Erom her point of view, I mean.” 

Douglas Colborne did not at all mind being considered 
raw from anybody’s point of view. He was not conceited, 
and was well aware that he had as yet seen only a very 
small part of the very small planet which we inhabit. He 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


II 

was anxious to see as much more of it as he could before 
finally settling down into the narrow channel marked out 
for him by destiny ; and that was one reason why he 
looked forward with pleasure and curiosity to the enter- 
tainment to which he had been bidden. Another was that 
he had been greatly attracted by the Countess Radna's 
beauty, as well as by the informality of her manner. 

Yet she was formal enough when he presented himself, 
at the appointed hour, at her hotel in the Avenue Fried- 
land, and when she rose to receive him. She briefly 
introduced him to three or four of his fellow-guests (he 
noticed that before doing so she had to consult some ivOry 
tablets, attached to her fan, in order to make sure of his 
name), and then resumed her seat and her conversation 
with an old gentleman whom he afterwards discovered to 
be one of the most famous of modern French painters. 
This indifference chilled him a little,, as it may not impos- 
sibly have been intended to do ; but he enjoyed the even- 
ing in spite of it. There were sixteen people present, and 
a dozen of them were what she had promised they should 
be, celebrities. Whether she had accurately described 
some of them as being famous without having deserved 
fame, Douglas Colborne did not presume to, judge ; but 
after a time he thought her amply justified in having called 
them amusing. He was placed at the dinner-table between 
two ladies, one of whom was the wife of a minister, 
while the other, who was a widow, was known to all 
Europe as a Legitimist, an ardent sportswoman and a 
politician (as far as the providing of funds went) for the 
fun of the thing. Understanding enough of French to fol- 
low a comedy at the Theatre Franqais, he did not under- 
stand the language quite sufficiently to appreciate all its 
recent developments, so that he missed some of the 
amenities which were exchanged across him between this 
couple of fair antagonists ; still he caught a few of them, 
and was diverted by them ; he himself was scarcely 
required to open his lips ; and when, from time to time, he „ 
took the liberty of listening to the incessant and rather 
noisy conversation which was being carried on at a greater 
distance from him, he found that also extremely divert- 
ing. If the Countess Radna was odd in nothing else, she 
was evidently odd in her selection of those whom it 
pleased her to assemble under her roof. It was not 
necessary to possess any intimate knowledge of Parisian 


2 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


society in order to perceive that she had collected what Mr. 
Colborne mentally characterized as “a mixed pack,” nor 
could it be doubted that a world-renowned philosopher 
and freethinker, an ascetic bishop, an ex-diplomatist of the 
second empire, and a former member of the provisional 
government of 1870 had been invited to meet one another 
for experimental and slightly mischievous purposes. 
They did not, however, come to blows, and their hostess 
apparently derived less satisfaction from their wordy 
altercations, their sarcasms and their witticisms than the 
young Englishman who was watching her did. He 
noticed that she ate scarcely anything and spoke very little. 
Most of the time she was leaning back in her chair, fan- 
ning herself languidly and looking most unaffectedly 
bored, and once, when their eyes chanced to meet, she 
made a little deprecatory grimace at him, as who should 
say : “ After all, it wasn’t worth your while to come, was 
it ? The puppets won’t dance.” 

For his part, he thought that they were dancing quite 
creditably, and later in the evening he made so bold as to 
take advantage of an opporfunity for telling her so much. 
After dinner the company adjourned to a conservatory, 
where coffee and liqueurs and cigarettes were served ; 
and espying a vacant chair at his hostess’s elbow, he 
audaciously possessed himself of it. 

“ Tant mieux!” said she, in answer to his observation ; 
“ since you are amused, there is no need for me to apolo- 
gize. Nevertheless, they are not amusing. They might 
be if they believed in themselves, or their theories, or 
their principles ; but the unfortunate thing is that not one 
of them, unless perhaps it may be the old bishop, does. 
Are you, by any chance, provided with a creed, political, 
social, or religious, which you take seriously ? If you 
were, one would be grateful to you for proclaiming it. ” 

“Oh, I suppose I am,” answered the young man, 
laughing. “I believe in Christianity and the political 
supremacy of the landed classes. Also, to a great extent, 
in human nature and in the perfectibility of the species.” 

“What droll articles of faith ! I don’t see how you 
can make the first agree with the residue ; but if you really 
believe in the last, you must believe that one man is as 
good as another.” 

“Oh, dear, no ; if anything is patent to the meanest 
capacity, it is that the intelligent minority always must 


TJUE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


13 

and will govern the stupid majority, whethei your form 
of government be monarchical or republican.” 

“And universal suffrage? ” 

‘ ‘ Well, we know how that works. Of course it is an 
idiotic system ; but it admits of manipulation and is man- 
ipulated. Put it how you will, our only concern is to 
secure a majority of the minority, and we could do it in 
England if only the radicals were not so abominably un- 
scrupulous. It is different in foreign countries, because 
you have the fear of war constantly before your eyes ; and 
although you may enjoy worrying the fnen who hold of- 
fice, you wouldn’t like to throw them over and put the 
Socialists into the saddle.” 

The Countess was perhaps more interested in her in- 
terlocutor’s personality than in his political views. She 
made no response to these ; but presently she said : 

“You are actually and seriously a Christian, then ? ” 

“ Certainly I am. Aren’t you ? ” 

“,No ; I have passed through that phase, and have had 
to abandon the theory, not without regret. It is a pretty 
theory ; but unluckily it isn’t true — at all events, it can’t 
be proved to be true. ” 

“Oh, if you insist upon proofs ” 

“Isn’t that just what one has a right to insist upon, 
supposing that one possesses any rights at all? What 
right, I wonder, have I to be enjoying every luxury that 
money can buy, while hundreds of thousands of my 
fellow-creatures haven’t enough to eat ? ” 

“ Have you any inclination to resign your privileges ? ” 
“Not the smallest. Only, if the populace were to 
deprive me of them some fine day, I shouldn’t have the 
effrontery to complain ; all I could do would be to protest 
that I had been born, through no fault of my own, to my 
present position in the world, which I had no hand in 
bringing to its present pass. The truly consolatory and 
delightful thing would be to believe, as I suppose you do, 
that we are all where we are and what we are by the 
decree of some wise and supernatural Creator. It would 
be a funny belief to hold, no doubt ; but it isn’t in the 
least funny to hold no belief, and it is most particularly 
stupid to profess a belief which one doesn’t really hold. 
That is why everybody, except you', is so particularly 
stupid this evening.” 

The young Englishman said he was glad to hear that he 


14 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


was exceptional, although he had never expected to be so 
styled in virtue of -his being obviously ordinary. “ You 
seem to have gone so far in your search for abnormal 
beings,” he remarked, “ that an encounter with a normal 
Briton is quite a pleasant shock and surprise to you.” 

“Who told you that I was in search of abnormal 
beings ? ” retorted the Countess. “ Don't try to say clever 
things ; that is not at all the role of the normal Briton, and 
you are not likely to shine in it. You will probably shine 
in other ways before long, if you continue to be simple 
and honest ; only you should beware of sneering at what 
seems to you to be morbid affectation. We are morbid, 

I confess ; but we are not affected, and, such as we are, 
we constitute the majority of the minority that you were 
speaking about just now. You will have to reckon with 
us when you have attained the summit of your ambition, 
and been invited to take your place as one of your Queen's 
advisers. That is, if your minority is worth considering 
at all — as I daresay it may be for another half-century. 
Let us talk about something else now.” 

However, she did not seem very eager to talk about 
anything else ; for she soon rose, and, crossing the room, 
seated herself beside the artist, who was possibly more 
successful in amusing her than Douglas Colborne had 
been. The latter took his leave with a regretful impres- 
sion that he had affronted his hostess, and a strong desire 
to see more of her. He was youthful enough to be 
ignorant of the essential characteristics of the opposite sex ; 
he was clever enough to have half-divined the necessity 
of keeping women (for their own sakes) in a state of 
subjection, and he was sensitive enough to have been 
slightly piqued by' a display of that very ancient recipe of 
theirs for temporarily subjugating their natural masters. . 
Once give a young man to understand that he has inspired 
you with a certain amused, disdainful liking, as for a 
worthy, inexperienced sort of creature, .and if, after that, 
you cannot get him to fall in love with you, you must be 
possessed of physical advantages far inferior to those of 
which the Countess Radna could boast. 

Not, of course, that Douglas Colborne had the remotest 
intention or idea of falling in love with this fair and 
wealthy Hungarian.' He had a cool head on his shoulders, 
and he knew very well that he could no more aspire to 
ally himself with a grandee of that class than with a Royal 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


15 


Highness. Besides, he did not mean to marry anybody 
for a good many years to come. For a good many years 
to come he would have plenty to do and think about. He 
had to get a neglected property into order, if that could 
be done ; he had to carve out some sort of a career for 
himself ; he had also to look after his mother and sisters, 
who might not improbably require looking after. Never- 
theless, he thought that the Countess Radna might be 
cured of the erroneous ideas she had taken up ; in addition 
to which, he felt sure that she was really worth far more 
than she chose to represent herself as being. In addition 
to that again, he rendered a just and dispassionate tribute 
to the loveliness of her person, which made her mere pres- 
ence a boon to the just and dispassionate critic. Musing 
thus over a nocturnal cigar, after he had returned to his 
hotel, he resolved that he would call upon her on the fol- 
lowing Thursday. She had mentioned to him, when he 
took leave of her, that she was at home on Thursdays. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE COUNTESS RECEIVES. 

If we all of us had everything that we could wish for, 
how miserable we should all be ! That is what has been 
impressed upon us, without convincing us, by innumerable 
philosophers and divines, ever since those two classes of 
more or less useful mortals sprang into existence to meet 
as well as they could with their wise platitudes, the 
demands of a dissatisfied race. However, if there is one 
thing more certain than another, it is that the most fortu- 
nate of us may always rely upon having something still 
remaining to long for ; and it was owing to the above 
happy provision on the part of nature that the Countess 
Radna was not really quite as miserable as she thought 
herself. It is true that she had vast wealth, rare beauty, 
absolute independence, and health so excellent that there 
was not the slightest need for the services of the physician 
who formed one of her household ; yet it was a matter of 
no difficulty whatsoever to her to be depressed and dis- 


1 6 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


contented, while nothing debarred her from the consolation 
of believing that she would have been a hundred thousand 
times better off if she had been somebody else. Although 
it is doubtful whether she would have enjoyed washing 
clothes and cleaning grates, she often envied washer- 
women and housemaids, whose duties are obvious, whose 
work must be done, whether they are in the mood for it 
or not, and who have no leisure to sit down and meditate 
ruefully upon the dreadful, dreary monotony of life. The 
Countess Radna was four-and-twenty years of age — no 
less than that — her parents had died during her childhood ; 
she had long been released from the supervision of her 
guardians ; she had been everywhere, she had seen every- 
thing, and she would willingly have written an additional 
chapter to the Book of Ecclesiastes had she been possessed 
of the requisite skill. 

The worst of it was that she possessed no skill, literary 
or other ; at any rate, this was what she said to herself in 
her frequent moments of despondency. She could paint 
a little ; she could play the piano a little ; she had read 
rather more, and she could, when she chose to take trouble, 
talk a good deal better than most women ; but what was 
the good of all that? What was the good of owning large 
tracts of country to which you couldn't pay more than a 
flying visit without being tempted to cut your throat ? 
What was the good of wandering about Europe, if you 
could only look forward to meeting the same dull people 
over and over again ? What was the good of being courted 
and admired, unless you could bring yourself to feel some 
vestige of admiration for your admirers ? What, indeed, 
was the good of being alive, since existence appeared 
to be merely synonymous with weariness and dis- 
gust ? One fine morning the Countess put some of 
these cheerful questions — not for the first time — to her 
body physician, Dr. Schott, who chuckled in his gray 
beard, shook his fat sides, and prescribed a tonic. Dr. 
Schott had an easy and well-paid berth, which he probably 
was not anxious to relinquish. He had always assured 
his gracious mistress that her constitution was a frail one ; 
but, having a tolprably clear comprehension of her char- 
acter, he had been careful to refrain from vexing her by 
subserviency of manner, nor had he ever scrupled to laugh 
at her fancies and her continual trifling ailments. 

“A few grains of quinine are very well/’ said he ; 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


*7 


“change of scene would be better; but what would be 
best of all would be to get up an interest in something or 
somebody — especially somebody. When one is interested 
in what is outside, one forgets to think about what is 
within. ” 

“I ask nothing better," returned the Countess. “Will 
you be so good as to provide me with somebody in whom 
it is possible to take an interest ? If you can discover such 
a person in Paris, you will be more fortunate than I have 
been, so far. To be sure, I remember now that there is 
a young Englishman who dined here the other night, and 
who seemed to me to differ in some ways from the rest of 
the nobodies. Come to my reception this afternoon and 
tell me what you think of him. He is almost certain to 
call. ” . 

“A fresh ,bretendant P” inquired the Doctor, with his 
thick, Teutonic laugh. 

“No, not a pr'etendant ; and I wish you ’ would not 
use French words, dear Doctor, your pronunciation of 
them gets upon my nerves. He is a sort of schoolboy ; 
but he is fresh, and, after a fashion, original, and I liked 
him. You shall tell me whether he is going to be a man 
or not some day — you who are so clever at reading char- 
acter. ” 

The Doctor was really a very fair judge of ordinary 
character ; but as much could hardly be said for the 
Baroness von Bickenbach, who ranked next to him in the 
Countess Radna’s household, and whom that lady now 
proceeded to summon to her presence. 

“ Bickenbach, ” said she, when the faded little middle- 
%ed woman who had once been her governess, and who 
was now utilized by her in the alternative capacities of 
housekeeper, chaperon and companion, had appeared in 
prompt obedience to her commands, “if you had nothing 
better to do, it would be kind of you to help me out with 
the entertainment of the host of tiresome people who 
may be expected to invade the house this afternoon.” 

“ Ach, most gracious Countess!” sighed the other, 
“ you know that your wishes are my law : but you know 
also that I am not entertaining.” 

“Possibly not to them ; yet you never fail to entertain 
me by the things that you say about them after they are 
gone away. Keep your eye upon a young Englishman 
of the name of Colborne, my good Bickenbach, and, when 

2 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


18 

you have studied him, let me hear what impression he 
has produced upon you. It has been his great privilege to 
please me : isn't he a fortunate man ? ” 

The Baroness thought him fortunate indeed, and ex- 
pressed her opinion with the utmost emphasis. Further- 
more, she was very anxious to learn whether the favored 
Englishman was handsome, and whether he belonged to 
what she was pleased to call la haute volee. Like Dr. 
Schott, she was always expecting the advent of the 
man upon whom the control of her patroness’s fortune 
must some day devolve ; but unlike him, she was free 
from any selfish prejudices in the matter. She was 
romantic, as the ladies of her nation commonly are ; she 
desired, above all things, that her beloved Countess 
Helene should be happy ; she had a firm faith in the pos- 
sibility of matrimonial felicity, and as for herself, her little 
economies enabled her to look forward with comparative 
equanimity to the not improbable event of her dismissal. 
But this legitimate curiosity on her part received scant 
gratification ; for her beloved Countess Helene only 
answered : 

“ Bickenbach, you bore me. There is just a chance — 
but I am afraid it is a poor one — that Mr. Colborne may 
amuse me for a short time ; he is not an Adonis, and it 
would make no difference to me if he were. You ought 
to understand me well enough to know that, if I ever 
marry at all, I shall marry somebody of whom I am a 
little afraid. One is not afraid of students and debutants , 
and one doesn't take the trouble to notice their features, 
or inquire who their fathers may be.” 

Notwithstanding this contemptuous declaration, the 
Countess Radna had deigned to notice that Douglas 
Colborne was a pleasant, manly-looking young fellow, 
and when, in accordance with her anticipations, he entered 
her drawing-room that afternoon, amongst other visitors, 
she did think it worth while to question him upon the 
subject of his parentage. On being informed that his father 
was dead, that he was his own master, that he had no 
other near relations than a mother and two sisters, and 
that his modest mansion, with the adjacent lands, had 
been the property of his family for a matter of three 
centuries, she remarked : 

“That is as much as to say that your position has been 
created for you, and that the only problem you have to 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


J 9 


solve is how to get through your life without becoming 
sick of it. ” 

“Oh, I am not so hard up for problems as that,” he 
replied, with a laugh ; “ there are plenty of others which 
will take me all my time to solve, I expect. How to pay 
my way will be one of them, and my people think that 
how to get into Parliament ought to be a second. Not 
that I should be in any danger of becoming sick of life, 
even if I were a county member already and as rich as a 
Rothschild. Such as they are, the amusements of life are 
quite good enough for me.” 

“ You mean, perhaps, what you and your compatriots 
call sport — hunting and shooting ? ” 

“Yes; and games. Luckily for me, I love games. I 
love hunting and shooting and racing too ; but I can't 
expect to have the cream of these things, because I can’t 
afford them. Still one can treat oneself to the pleasure of 
looking on at some of them, and I mean to look on at 
the Grand Prix next Sunday, though it does take place on 
an unlawful day. Shall you be there ? ” 

“ C est selon : I shall be there if I am in the mood to go 
there when the time comes ; but I am deprived of the 
temptation which you enjoy, because the only difference 
that I can discern between Sunday and Monday is that 
Monday will bring me twenty-four hours nearer to the 
end of this tedious comedy or tragedy — whichever it 
may> be. So you actually believe that you will commit 
a sin by attending a race meeting on the first day of the 
week, and you mean to attend it in spite of your belief? 
Happy man ! ” 

Mr. Colborne explained. He did not deem it a sin to be 
present at the Grand Prix — otherwise he would deny him- 
self that pleasure — but in England there were still to be 
found thousands of excellent people who held that strict 
obedience to the ten commandments, as adapted to the 
requirements of modern English life, was essential ; so 
that if, by an impossibility, such a thing as a Sunday race- 
meeting were to be proposed in his native land, he should 
feel bound to discountenance it. 

“I don’t feel bound,” he added, “to insist upon the 
observance of the Jewish Sabbath ; nobody does observe 
it, and nobody dreams of doing so. Still some conces- 
sions must be made to inherited prejudices, and it is better, 
after all, that the masses should stick to an exaggerated 


20 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


creed than that they should abandon everything in the 
shape of a creed. Don't you think so ? ” 

‘‘Infinitely better,” she answered, “andso the French 
nation will discover before the twentieth century begins. 
It is also very wise on the part of the instructed few 
to pander to the prejudices of the uninstructed many. 
Whether it is quite honest is another question ; but that 
concerns you more than me. Anyhow, I may look for- 
ward to the felicity of seeing you at Longchamps, and 
perhaps, if I do, you will kindly try to enlighten me as to 
the excitement that can be derived from ascertaining that 
this long-legged, narrow-chested 'horse can get over a 
given space of ground in a slightly shorter time than that.” 

Douglas Colborne had a great deal to say in reply to 
so absurd a travesty of the signification of horse-racing ; 
but she did not listen to him very attentively, and her next 
remark was totally irrelevant. 

“You talk with an authoritative accent,” said she ; “it 
seems a pity that you should no longer be a soldier, because 
fighting is the one clear and satisfactory business that re-, 
mains open to men in these days. Although, as far as' 
one can see at present, it would have taken you rather 
more than an average lifetime to have become a Field- 
Marshal. Do you never sigh for military glory ? You look 
as if you ought. ” 

“It is my humble endeavor to sigh for nothing that I 
can’t possibly have, ” he answered, laughing. “ Mean- 
while I have just been made a Colonel of Yeomanry ; so 
that when our friends on this side of the Channel become 
our enemies and invade us, they will find me ready to 
receive them at the head of the distinguished corps which 
I command. ” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “ Did I not tell you that 
you were a happy man ! ” she exclaimed. “ Imagine one 
whose ambition it is to desire only what he can get ! I 
really must introduce you to Dr. Schott, who will cordially 
sympathize with you, and to my companion the Baroness 
von Bickenbach, who shares your ideas without having 
the faintest suspicion that she shares them. Don’t make 
fun of Bickenbach, unless you wish to hurt my feelings. 
You will think her a fool ; but she is not a fool, because 
nobody who is so perfectly sincere can be.” 

It was little that Douglas Colborne cared whether the 
clumsy, colorless German frau to whom he was presented 


THE COUNTESS RAVNa . 


21 


was as wise as Solomon or as silly as she presented every 
appearance of being. He did not want to talk to her 
or to Dr. Schott, and he would have liked very much to 
talk a little longer with his hostess. But the latter had 
either had enough of him or thought that the rest of her 
visitors had not had quite enough of her ; for she now 
turned away, and during the next quarter of an hour it de- 
volved upon him to make conversation for the benefit of 
her dependents. He got on pretty well with the Baro- 
ness, who entertained him with extravagant eulogies of 
her former pupil and present mistress, extolling the Coun- 
tess Radna’s kindness of heart and boundless liberality, 
while she deplored the influence of the ‘ ‘ Zeitgeist , ” which, 
according to her, led so many pure and noble beings into 
representing themselves as something infinitely inferior to 
what they actually were. The Baroness might be foolish, 
but seemed to be sympathetic ; whereas Dr. Schott dis- 
played none of the sympathy and cordiality with which he 
had been credited in advance. Dr. Schott was somewhat 
grumpy and surly ; Dr. Schott, to tell the truth, had taken 
the stranger's measure, and had been dissatisfied with the 
result of his scrutiny. “ Young, not ill-looking, rather 
clever than stupid, and remarkably fresh," was the Doc- 
tor's inward verdict. “ Just the sort of fellow to captivate 
her, and just the sort of fellow to make the position of resi- 
dent physician uncomfortable. Das geht nicht! " Conse- 
quently, Schott said some rather rude things about the im- 
portance of England as a factor in European politics. He 
was very well aware that nothing that he could say or do 
would interfere with the gratification of his mistress's ca- 
prices ; but that knowledge left him free to indulge his own 
ill-humor, and he did not deny himself so modest a lux- 
ury. 

When Mr. Colbornetook leave of the Countess he made 
so bold as to inquire why she kept a tame doctor. “ And 
not such a very tame one either, if it comes to that," he 
remarked. r< Yo,ur doctor growls and shows his teeth even 
while one is patting him on the head and saying nice things 
to him. " 

‘ ‘ Does he ? " she returned, laughing. ‘ ‘ Well, that shows 
what a capital watch-dog he is. I am sorry if he growled 
at you ; but perhaps that may have been because you 
couldn’t distinguish his head from his tail, and stroked 
him the wrong way. I have known such mistakes made 


2 2 the countess radna. 

by others before now ; still, I have very seldom met any- 
body who could manage to irritate my dear, good Bick> 
enbach. I trust you haven’t been laughing at her. ” 

“ Not for one moment. She has been praising you up 
to the skies, and there was nothing to laugh at in that.” 

The Countess gave him a smiling little bow of acknowl- 
edgment and dismissal. She herself affected a sans facon 
which bordered upon familiarity ; but her rank and her 
wealth placed her upon so lofty an eminence that she was 
little accustomed to familiarity on the part of her associates, 
and the simple, self-possessed manners of this young 
Englishman tickled without offending her. 

“Many thanks, ” she interrupted her esteemed physician 
and counsellor by saying, after the company had departed, 
“ but, upon second thoughts, I am not sure that I care to 
hear your opinion of Mr. Colborne. I have formed my 
own, and it is a favorable one.” 

Bickenbach made a soft murmur of assent, while Dr. 
Schott returned roughly, “You will change your opinion, 
or else you will be sorry for not having changed it.” 

Thereupon the Countess threw herself back in her chair, 
and laughed heartily. The thinly-veiled apprehensions of 
the Doctor always made her laugh, and she Was always 
careful to refrain from reassuring him. He would have been 
far less diverting than he was had it been in his power to 
-discern the absurdity of imagining that she, who had 
refused countless brilliant alliances, was likely to bestow 
her hand or her affections upon an obscure young Briton. 


CHAPTER III. 

ENGHIEN. 

OfH;he following day Douglas Colborne did his duty by 
calling at the British Embassy. Lady Royston was at 
home, and made herself extremely pleasant, hoping that 
he would not scruple to make use of her during his sojourn 
in Paris, and that if there was anybody in particular whom 
he would like to meet he would let her know. 

“ For my own part,” she remarked, “ I am too good an 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 3 


Englishwoman to appreciate the society of other nations ; 
still, no doubt it does one good to rub shoulders with them 
from time to time. It's a wholesome sort of alterative. ” 

He thanked her, but said that he hardly had time as yet 
to assimilate the dose with which she had already been 
kind enough to provide him. “The Countess Radna,” he 
observed, “ is a tremendous alterative.”' 

“ Is she ? Well, I daresay you know her better than I 
do, for you have been to dinner with her, I hear. When 
she speaks to me she talks like anybody else ; but that 
may be because I am only a woman. Men, I believe, 
become crazy about her, and one can’t wonder at it, con- 
sidering how lovely she is. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t imi- 
tate them in that respect if I were you. In fact, I must 
beg as a personal favor that you won’t, because if you 
did I should get into trouble with Peggy Rowley, of whom 
I may confess to you in strict confidence that I am a good 
deal frightened. ’’ 

Colborne laughed at the idea of anybody being afraid 
of Peg Rowley, whom he had known intimately from his 
earliest childhood, and who did not strike him as a formid- 
able personage ; but he declared that he was in no peril 
of losing his heart to the fascinating Countess. 

“I know my place,” said he, “and I fully realize ^hat 
a great gulf is fixed between an English country gentleman 
on a small scale and a Hungarian magnate. Yet, I must 
say that I should like to make friends with her, especially 
as she seems quite disposed to be friendly. At all events, 
she is very candid. She told me one or two things about 
herself which made me feel rather sorry for her.” 

‘ ‘ That does credit to the tenderness of your heart, though 
I should think you might easily discover some more 
deserving subject for pity.” 

“Oh, one can’t tell; beauty and riches aren’t every- 
thing. Anyhow, I hope I shall find out a little more 
about her before I take leave of her forever, and I am in 
hopes of encountering her at the Grand Prix on Sunday. 
Do you propose to honor the races by your presence ? ” 

The Ambassadress shook her head ; there were a great 
many things which she was not permitted to do, she in- 
formed him, and Sir Edmund Royston thought that going 
to the races on Sunday ought to be one of them. “But 
he doesn't ask the young men how they employ their time 
on that day,” she added, “ and I suspect that your friend 


24 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 

Mr. Lindsay will make a point of being at Longchamps. 
You had better get him to take you with him ; he is very 
well qualified to act as a cicerone.” 

Mr. Colborne thought this was not a bad suggestion, 
and looking in at the Chancery afterwards obtained a 
prompt offer of a seat in the second Secretary’s dog-cart 
for the occasion. In the plentitude of his hospitality Mr. 
Lindsay offered furthermore to back the favorite on his 
behalf ; but he declined to risk his money, alleging that he 
was, for once, more anxious to see the spectators than 
the sport. 

“Well, they’re worth looking at, some of them,” re- 
turned the other, and proceeded to mention a few of the 
ladies who appeared to him worthy of an inquiring 
stranger’s notice. 

“ Oh, I don’t mean women of that sort,” returned Col- 
borne, with a slight gesture of disgust; “I mean high 
society in general, and the Countess Radna in particular.” 

“That’s it, is it?” exclaimed Lindsay, raising his eye- 
brows. “You have made the most of your time, it seems. 
Did she give you a rendezvous, if one may venture to 
ask ? ” 

‘^Of course not ; but she said there was a chance of her 
being there.” 

“Then the odds are that she won’t be there, and it’s 
still longer odds that if she is there she won’t speak to you. 
From what I have heard of the lady, that’s her little way 
— an old dodge, you know, but usually an effective one. 
Don’t blame me when she cuts you dead, that’s all. ” 

Colborne replied, laughing, that he would blame nobody 
for the occurrence of such a calamity- — not even the Coun- 
tess Radna herself, who, supposing that she did cut him, 
would certainly do so only because she had failed to recog- 
nize him, not because she had deemed it worth her while 
to employ any dodges, old or new, for, his subjugation. 

But this becoming modesty did not prevent him from 
being a little bit disappointed and a little bit mortified by 
the verification of Mr. Lindsay’s prophecy. The Coun- 
tess Radna did attend the meeting ; he saw her from afar 
in a stand to which he was doubtful whether he could ob- 
tain admittance, surrounded by a crowd of individuals of 
whom the greater part wore uniforms and decorations ; 
but all he got from her was one of those vague smiling 
bows whereby it is the custom of her sex to acknowledge 


THE ’ COUNTESS RADNA . 


2 5 


the salutes of casual acquaintances, and the victory of the 
French horse, Stuart, neither aroused his enthusiasm nor 
abased his patriotic pride. What the deuce did it matter 
which horse won ? He was entitled to that inward ejac- 
ulation because he had openly avowed that he was not at 
Longchamps for the sake of sport. Very different and 
much more satisfactory was the case of Mr. Lindsay, who 
had backed the winner and was proportionately jubilant. 

“The best colt of the year,” said he, as he climbed up 
into his dog-cart and took the reins, preparatory to driving 
his friend home. “I knew that weeks ago, and all these 
fellows might have known it if they had had the sense to 
keep their eyes open. Well, that puts me a couple of 
hundred to the good, which is better than nothing, though 
Lm sorry it isn’t more. What have you been doing with 
yourself all this time ? Sloping about and studying beauty 
and fashion, eh ? I’m afraid you must have had rather a 
slow day of it.” 

“I didn’t expect to have an exciting day, ” answered 
Colborne, somewhat gloomily. “ Of course, I don’t know 
any of these people.” 

“What about your Countess, by the way? She was 
there, for I caught a glimpse of her, looking, as usual, as 
if she wished herself anywhere else. Was she graciously 
pleased to notice your worship’s presence ? ” 

Colborne had to admit that her recognition of that cir- 
cumstance had been of the slightest possible kind, where- 
upon his companion laughed aloud. “I told you how it 
would be,” said he. “ If you feel any little premonitory 
symptoms of a weakness in that quarter, be advised by 
me, my dear boy, and stamp them out. Really, when 
you come to think of it, what conceivable comfort is there 
to be obtained out of playing tame cat to one of these 
magnificent ladies ? They like to keep a stock of tame 
cats, and small blame to them ; but it’s no part of your 
duty or mine to gratify their tastes, and, luckily for us, we 
are not restricted, as they are, to one solitary form of 
amusement.” 

No adequate reply could be made to so sensible and 
succinct a summing-up of the case, nor was any forthcom- 
ing ; but its own inherent inadequacy was made manifest 
before Mr. Lindsay’s high-stepping horse had trotted quite 
as far as the Arc de Triomphe. For that showy animal 
had not reached the turn out of the Avenue du Bois de 


26 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Boulogne when he was passed with very great ease by a 
pair of grays, drawing a victoria in which a single lady 
was seated ; and presently this equipage was brought to 
a standstill, while a resplendent chasseur in a cocked hat 
and feathers descended from the box and approached the 
dog-cart, with a request from the Countess Radna that Mr. 
Colborne would speak to her for one moment. 

Mr. Colborne, it need scarcely be said, lost no time in 
obeying the Countess’s summons, and was rather sur- 
prised to find that, after all, she had nothing of any im- 
portance to say to him. 

“ I only wanted to tell you,” was her greeting, “that 
I shall not be beguiled by you a second time into looking 
on at one of these senseless contests. The betting is the 
only thing that enlivens them, and if one stayed at home 
and backed one fly against another upon, a window-pane 
one would be spared the discomfort of swallowing huge 
mouthfuls of dust.” 

“Oh, there is a great deal more in horse-racing than 
that,” answered Colborne. “I could have explained to 
you where the difference comes in if you had allowed me 
the chance. But you wouldn’t.” 

“Ought I to have beckoned to you? ” she asked, laugh- 
ing. “I am very sorry that I didn’t happen to think of 
doing so ; because it is just possible that, if I had, you 
might have made this dreary day a shade less dreary for 
me. However, there is one thing to be said in favor of 
to-day, which is that it is nearly over, and to-morrow, if 
only the sun shines, may take away the taste of it. To- 
morrow my good Bickenbach and I are going into the 
country, all by ourselves, to look at green fields and gather 
wild flowers, and forget what sophisticated beings the 
force of circumstances has converted us into. We are the 
very embodiment of pastoral simplicity from time to time, 
Bickenbach and I.” 

“And in what particular spot are you thinking of giv- 
ing play to-your pastoral dispositions ? ” inquired Colborne, 
who could not help thinking that this announcement con- 
veyed something in the nature of an invitation. 

“ Oh, not in any very remote spot. Only at Enghien, 
which is reached by frequent trains from the Gare du 
Nord, but which is rustic enough for our purpose. You 
ought to visit Enghien and Montmorency some fine day, 
and pay the tribute of a sigh to the memory of Jean 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


27 


Jacques Rousseau, if you have ever heard of that writer. 
Now I must not detain your friend’s fiery horse any 
longer. Tell him — your friend, I mean — that I shall not 
be offended with him for passing me,' if he. can.” 

Douglas Colborne did not deliver the above polite mes- 
sage, nor, in spite of plain and direct queries, did Mr. 
Lindsay learn what had passed between him and the 
Countess Radna during their brieRinterview ; but it seems 
almost superfluous to mention that the hero of this narra- 
tive was taking a return ticket for Enghien shortly before 
midday on the morrow. The railway journey to Enghien 
occupies half-an-hour or thereabouts, and so astute had 
been his calculations that he felt able to* count with toler- 
able certainty upon the fact that two ladies of Conti- 
nental habits who proposed to spend a day in the country 
would find it necessary to partake of a dejeuner a la four- 
chelte between twelve and one o’clock. An English wo- 
man might probably take a packet of sandwiches with her, 
aud eat them out of doors ; but such Spartan abstinence 
was hardly to be expected of those who had had nothing 
but a cup of coffee and a roll to sustain them since rising 
from their beds. On alighting from the train, therefore, 
he proceeded straight to the principal restaurant in the 
place, where he was rewarded by the sight of the Count- 
ess Radna and the Baroness von Bickenbach, who were 
seated at a little round table in the public dining-room, and 
one of whom, at least, did not seem to be at all more sur- 
prised by this encounter than he himself was. 

“So you have come,” said she, composedly, as he 
approached, and while the worthy Bickenbach was giving 
vent to sundry guttural and perfunctory exclamations 
of astonishment ; “ T thought you would, and I shouldn’t 
wonder if you were under the impression that I wanted 
you to come. ” 

He began to protest that he had entertained no such 
audacious hope ; but she interrupted him by saying, laugh- 
ingly : “Oh, I did want you ; why not? Sit down and 
order some food for yourself. I have eaten as much as I 
want ; but the appetite of our dear friend on the other side 
of the table knows no bounds, and you will finish before 
she has done even now, if you make haste. ” 

Bickenbach, whose accomplishments included only a 
very elementary knowledge of the English language, 
nodded encouragingly at him, and he soon found that she 


28 


THE COUNTESS RADNA T 


well deserved the. reputation claimed for her by her pat- 
roness. For his own part, he had no wish to enter into 
competition with her, and although, to keep up appear- 
ances, he disposed of some cutlets and fried potatoes, he 
was far less eager to appease the pangs of hunger than to 
ascertain what was to be done and what he would be 
expected to do on the conclusion of the repast. 

The Countess, who sat watching him with an amused 
expression of countenance from beneath her half-closed 
eyelids — and who, after uttering the above recorded sen- 
tences, was pleased to continue the conversation in French 
- — relieved his mind of all anxiety upon that point by 
calmly issuing her commands as she rose from the 
table. 

“ Bickenbach,” said she, “is going to sketch the lake ; 
in the matter of sketching and painting in water-colors 
Bickenbach is de premiere force , and ought not to have her 
attention distracted by the chatter of inartistic neighbors. 
While she is at work, you and I will walk to Montmorency ; 
or perhaps we will only sit down somewhere in the shade 
and talk. At any rate, we have the whole afternoon 
before us ; so that it is quite unnecessary to decide at 
once how we will spend it. " 

The programme had a seductive sound, and it was not, 
at all events, for him to offer any objections to the carrying 
out of it. After paying his modest bill, he accompanied 
the two ladies to the margin of the lake, whither the excel- 
lent Bickenbach's easel and camp-stool and other para- 
phernalia had already been transported, and when he had 
seen her comfortably established beneath a gigantic white 
umbrella he was willing enough to walk to Montmorency 
or any other destination with the Countess Radna, who 
beckoned him away, remarking, “ Now, for the next hour 
or two, .we can do and say exactly what we please." 

It did not please her to make a pious pilgrimage to the 
spots rendered classic by memories of the author of La 
Nonvelle Heloise ; she said the sun was too hot for violent 
exercise, and confessed, besides, that she was no very 
enthusiastic admirer of Jean Jacques. “Although," she 
added, “ he knew a good deal — more, perhaps, than we 
do, in spite of our having, in one 'sense, so completely 
outstripped him. All things considered, philosophy is 
hardly worth the trouble, is it? Nobody really knows 
anything, and the best thing we can do is to plod along, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


29 


with our eyes fixed upon the ground and a firm convic- 
tion that nothing outside the range of our short vision is of 
much importance to us as individuals. That, I am sure, 
is your opinion. ” 

She seated herself, as she spoke, upon the grass beneath 
a spreading chestnut-tree, and Colborne hastened to follow 
her example. ‘ ‘ I suppose we all know what our immediate 
duties are, and I suppose the main thing is that we should 
do our best to fulfil them,” was his highly practical rejoin- 
der. 

“No doubt ; and what do you regard as your immediate 
duties ? It might be interesting to hear about them, and 
how you arrived at the point of being certain that you can 
recognize them.” 

He gave her the desired information with perfect readi- 
ness and simplicity of diction. It was incumbent upon 
him, he thought, to study agriculture, with a view to ren- 
dering his property sofnewhat more productive. Without 
pretending to be a political sage, he claimed some acquaint- 
ance with British domestic politics, and was inclined to 
believe that, if a seat in Parliament could be found for him, 
he ought to secure it and add such personal weight as he 
possessed to that of the patriots who were gallantly striv- 
ing to push the wheels of the State in the right direction 
.through the mire of an obstructive Opposition. He con- 
sidered, furthermore, that he owed allegiance to those 
principles of conduct which have from time immemorial 
bden held to be obligatory upon Christians and gentlemen, 
and he wound up (although he had not been invited to 
tag a moral ' on to his profession of faith) by observing 
that those who set their own amusement before themselves 
as their chief object in life were very unlikely, by his way 
of thinking, tcuget any amusement out of life at all. 

“You say that for me,” remarked the Countess, com- 
posedly. “ I don’t know who told you that I lived only 
for my own amusement ; but nothing can be more positive 
than that I haven’t succeeded in amusing myself as yet. 
Still, I admit, with gratitude, that you are amusing, for 
the moment.” 

“You mean, I suppose, that I am an ass. All the same, 
I don’t see why I am an ass. You yourself admit that 
nobody can look much farther ahead than the length of 
his nose.” 

“ And don’t you ever look farther ahead than that ? 


3© THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 

What about those ideas of yours respecting your home 
politics which brought quite a fine color into your cheeks 
when you mentioned them ? Oh, you will go far, 
and your nose will go in front of you : you have only to 
follow it, as it will follow your will. The difference 
between you and me is that I can’t follow my nose, 
because I have no will to direct it. It is turning forlornly 
this way and that, sniffing the air and detecting no symp- 
tom of scent anywhere. ” 

Now, it is no very difficult matter for a man possessed 
of ordinary common sense to point out that plenty of scent, 
true and false, is discoverable at all points of the compass. 
The time Slipped away quite pleasantly while Colborne 
expounded his modest creed, and endeavored to apply it 
to the case of his companion, who, to tell the truth, was 
by no means averse to discussing herself. She affected to 
laugh his panaceas to scorn, but she confessed that she 
was not yet an absolutely convinced pessimist, and per- 
haps the conclusion at which he arrived after a prolonged 
interchange of ideas was not so very far removed Jrom 
being a correct one. 

“ The long and the short of it is,” said he, “that what 
you want is somebody whom you can care for more than 
you care for yourself. And, of course, you will meet with 
such a person one of these days.” 

“Shall I? That doesn’t seem to me to be proved. If 
he is to appear at all — naturally, you are speaking oihim, 
not of her or them — he ought to have made his appearance 
by this time, ought he not? Since you are so confident 
of his existence, will you tell me what he will be like ? It 
would save me trouble to be able to recognize him at a 
glance.” 

She was looking full at her interlocutor* from beneath 
her sunshade, and he was conscious that her glance gave 
the spur to his heart. Nevertheless, he was also conscious 
— as, indeed he had been throughout the interview — that 
he would be a double-dyed fool if he were to let himself 
fall in love with one who not only was, but considered 
herself to be, so far above him in rank. 

“I'm sure I don't know what the happy man will be 
like," he answered, with a half smothered sigh, “and I’m 
sure I don’t want to know. I should probably detest him 
if I could see him, even with the mind’s eye ; so it’s just 
as well that I can’t. ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


31 


She raised her eyebrows. “ Why should you detest this 
shadowy personage ? " she inquired, innocently. 

“ Doesn't one always detest the people who marry one's 
friends ? ” 

“ Comme vous y allezj — I had no idea that I had the 
honor of being a friend of yours." But, perceiving that 
his feelings were rather more wounded by this speech than 
she had intended them to be, she hastened to add : “ Not 
that I object to being your friend ; pray don’t imagine that. 
On the contrary, I ask nothing better. Let us agree to be 
friends, then, if you will have it so, and let us shake hands 
upon it, after the custom of your people." 

Nothing will ever convince foreign nations that we are 
not perpetually shaking hands, nor is it possible to per- 
suade them that we do not habitually devour underdone 
beef. These irremovable misapprehensions, with the con- 
sequences thereof, must be submitted to, and in truth the 
consequences of the former are apt to be less unpleasant 
than those of the latter. Douglas Colborne certainly did 
not find it unpleasant to take the Countess's cool, white 
hand ; yet her fingers had not remained for more than a 
few seconds within his clasp when he became aware, with 
a sudden, sharp shock, of something that was likely to 
bring a great deal of unpleasantness into his future life. 
Not all his prudence, nor all his clear realisations of the 
circumstances, could help him ; he knew, beyond the 
shadow of a doubt, that what he had scarcely gone the 
length of dreading was now an actual fact, and that there 
could never be any question of friendship between him 
and the Countess Radna. 

And while he looked at her, sitting there in the sun- 
shine, with a half-mocking smile upon her lips, he dis- 
cerned a barely perceptible change in her expression which 
told him that she had read ^hat was in his mind. Neither 
of them spoke for a minute, or two ; he was horribly dis- 
concerted, but she did not appear to be in the least so, 
and presently she rose, remarking that it was time to go 
and examine the results of Bickenbach’s labors. So he 
followed her in silence to the spot where the worthy Bar- 
oness was hard at work, when she surprised him by say- 
ing composedly : 

“ Mr. Colborne has come to bid you adieu ; he has to 
return to Paris by the next train. You and I, my Bicken- 


32 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


bach, will spend the rest of the day here and go home at 
nightfall, like a couple of good bourgeoises ” 

. She did not offer to shake hands with him a second time, 
but took leave of him with a friendly little motion of her 
head, and he was fain to depart, inwardly abusing him- 
self for his clumsiness and stupidity, while acknowledging 
that he had, upon the whole, been mercifully dealt with. 

Nevertheless, he felt, as he strode towards the railway 
station, that the matter could not end there and then. 
Clumsy and stupid he might have been, and presump- 
tuous into the bargain ; yet he was not quite humble enough 
to submit to being good-humoredly waved aside, like an 
importunate beggar. And if some less merciful method 
of dismissal was in store for him — as, no doubt, it was — 
it must be formulated before he could make his final bow 
of withdrawal and resignation. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A QUALIFIED CONGE. 

It does not seem very extravagant to assume that the 
majority of those who will honor this unpretending work 
with their perusal are acquainted either with the passion 
of love or with some such semblance of it as may do duty 
for an equivalent ; so that they will, it is to be hoped, 
readily understand Douglas Colborne’s condition of mind. 
He had to tell the Countess Radna in plain words that he 
loved her. That she would refuse him might be a fore- 
gone conclusion ; that she would be astonished at his im- 
pudence was not improbable. Still he owed it to himself 
and to the sincerity of his sentiments to be defeated before 
accepting a defeat. 

The above being his view of the situation, it evidently 
behoved him to lose no time in picking up the thread of 
their intercourse at a point where, if he had had all his 
wits about him, he would not, perhaps, have suffered it to 
drop ; and a justly irritated man he was when he found 
that, do what he would, he was unable to carry so simple 
and straightforward a programme into effect. It was not 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


33 


very difficult to meet the Countess, and, as a matter of 
fact, he did meet her three or four times during the course 
of the ensuing week ; but it was impossible to speak to 
her in private without her consent, and this she was ap- 
parently determined to withhold from him. Through the 
kindly intervention of Lady Royston, he obtained admis- 
sion to various entertainments where the Countess Radna 
shone resplendent ; he was permitted to join the throng 
which surrounded her and to bask for a few minutes at a 
time in her smiles, but she did not let him draw her away 
from the throng, nor would she let him into her house. 
He called upon her twice, but was turned back from the 
doors both times, and really had not the face to make a 
third attempt. She would see him, no doubt, on her recep- 
tion day ; but what would be the use of that ? 

Meanwhile, he had already exceeded what he had men- 
tally decided upon as the term of his visit to the French 
capital ; he must soon return home. He understood, or 
thought that he understood, that the woman whom he loved 
was merely anxious to spare him and herself a more or less 
painful scene, and he could not but admit that her behavior 
was both reasonable and considerate. All the same, that 
painful scene must needs take place. He would never be 
able to forgive himself if he were to shirk it ; and he was 
debating in complete perplexity by what means it was to 
be brought about when, wandering down the Faubourg 
Saint-Honore one afternoon, he encountered a little old 
lady who was holding up her petticoats in both hands, 
thus displaying a pair of thick ankles and immense, flat- 
soled feet to the gaze of the irreverent. He placed him- 
self unhesitatingly in her path and, removing his hat, 
said : 

“How do you do, Madame von Bickenbach? May I 
have a word with you ? ” 

The little old lady dropped her skirts in order to throw 
up her hands. Perhaps she was really not so much sur- 
prised as she always appeared to be when anybody ac- 
costed her ; but the habit of affecting this amiable aston- 
ishment had become a second nature to her. 

“Ach, Hei'r Je ! ” she exclaimed in her native tongue, 
“ how you startled me ! ” 

Douglas Colborne, who did not speak German, pro- 
ceeded to explain himself in his best French. He wanted, 
he said, without circumlocution, to know why the Coun- 

3 


34 


THE COr/NTESS RADNA. 


tess Radna refused to receive him. Also, whether there 
was any particular day or hour when he might count upon 
finding her at home and disengaged. He would be leav- 
ing for England shortly, and he had reasons for wishing 
to speak to the Countess alone before he started on his jour- 
ney. This statement, of course, was compromisingly ex- 
plicit, but he desired to be explicit and was quite willing to 
compromise himself. 

Bickenbach made a series of extraordinary grimaces 
which, if he had only known it (but, indeed, they hardly 
spoke for themselves), were designed to express senti- 
mental sympathy. 

“ Mon bon monsieur” said she (her actual words were 
“monpon mossie”), “you can have nothing to tell the 
Countess that she does not already know. There have 
been so many like you ! It is a pity ; but there is no help 
for it, £n d if you will take the advice of an old woman 
that wishes you nothing but good, you will rest satisfied 
with having made her cry. Ma parole d'honneur ! she 
cried, after we had returned from Enghien the other day 
— which, for the rest, proves very little. Go home, dear 
sir, and forget us. We ourselves are about to quit Paris, 
for we always visit our estates in Hungary at this time 
of year/’ 

“You will not, if I can help it, leave before I have 
seen you — that is, before I have seen the Countess Radna,” 
Colborne declared. “What you say is kindly meant, I 
am sure ; but, as I daresay you will understand, it comes 
too late to be of any service to me. You might do me a 
genuine service by begging the Countess to grant me a 
farewell interview. ” 

Bickenbach shrugged up her shoulders. “As you 
please,” she replied. “I cannot tell whether the Coun- 
tess will receive you or not, but probably she will, and 
probably you will wish afterwards that she had not. The 
Countess has a heart of gold, yet she often causes great 
suffering to others, because she has difficulty in believing 
that they are sincere. Enfin! since it is your wish ” 

It was most decidedly his wish and his determination 
to take personal leave of this sceptical lady, whose scep- 
ticism, he flattered himself, was unlikely to remain proof 
against the declaration which he had to make to her. He 
was curious to know in what fashion she would give him 
his conge , that was all — that, and a pardonable disinclina- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


35 


tiorf to retreat until he should be compelled to do so. There- 
fore he thanked the friendly Baroness, saying that he 
counted upon her to deliver his message, which she prom- 
ised to do. 

“ Only,” said she, on parting with him, “you are ask- 
ing for something which cannot make you happy, and 
may make you very unhappy. Pray remember, after- 
wards, that I warned you of that. You will see that she 
will treat you as she has treated the others.” 

Douglas Colborne did not quite like this repeated allu- 
sion to ‘ c the others ” ; still, of course, there must have been 
others — heaps of others — and, after all, what difference 
did it make to him ? At least she had not, apparently, 
lost her heart to any of the others. So, all things con- 
sidered, he was disposed to be grateful to his lucky star for 
having caused him to run against the Baroness von Bick- 
enbach, and his satisfaction was complete when the post 
of the following morning brought him a short note, written 
in a large straggling hand upon very thick paper, which 
was embellished by an enormous coronet and monogram. 
The note, notwithstanding its brevity, was all that he 
could have wished or expected it to be: — 

“ Dear Mr. Colborne, — I hear from my excellent Bicken- 
bach that you are anxious to make your adieux to me be- 
fore leaving the country. That is most amiable of you, 
and if you will look in between five and six o'clock to- 
morrow evening, you will find me at home, and enchanted 
to profit by this occasion of wishing you bon voyage. 

“H. R.” 

Well, the words, when they had been read over a dozen 
times, did, no doubt, seem to have a certain ironical ring ; 
but what of that ? She would have been fairly entitled to 
laugh at him for having fallen in love with her after so 
brief an acquaintanceship, even if she had not been the 
Countess Radna and the proprietress of vast estates. So 
when he reached her house at the hour which she had 
specified, and, after giving his name, was admitted to an 
audience, he had nothing but the most deferential gratitude 
to express for the favor accorded to him. The day had 
been a hot one, and the room in which she received him 
was still darkened by closed persiennes. Entering it from 
the bright outer light he could scarcely distinguish her 


36 THE COUNTESS RADNA. 

features, and was but vaguely aware of the exquisite 
salmon-colored tea-gown, the pink ribbons and old 
Mechlin lace which formed her costume. 

“That is all very well,’' said she ; “ but, notwithstand- 
ing your pretty speeches, I am under no illusion as to the 
motive which has procured me the honor of this visit. 
To come to the point at once, you are here for the purpose 
of quarrelling with me — isn’t it so ? ” 

Douglas Colborne protested that nothing could be more 
remote from his intentions. Why should he wish to quarrel 
with her ? And why in the world should she impute so 
improbable a desire to him ? 

“ Would it be so very improbable ? I treated you like an 
intimate friend only a short time ago ; I have taken some 
trouble to hold you at arm’s length ever since. It would 
have been perfectly excusable on your part to stop my 
duenna in the street and demand an interview with me 
and an explanation, to which I should have made you 
welcome. Am I to understand that all you demanded 
was an interview ? And if so, why did you demand it ? ” 

“ Merely because I was resolved to tell you in so many 
words what you know without being told,” he replied. 
“ It is just because you know it, and because I know you 
know it, that an explanation would be superfluous. You 
may say that a declaration from me is equally superfluous, 
and so, perhaps, it is ; yet I must make it, notwithstand- 
ing its superfluity. Of course, it is quite absurd of me to 
love you, of course you can only give me one answer, 
and of course it has been kind of you to do whaT you 
could to spare me the mortification of being laughed at. 
But I really don’t think that I so very much mind your 
laughing at me. What I should have minded a great 
deal more would have been the feeling of having slunk 
off home without having been absolutely and distinctly 
rejected.” 

“Oh, if absolute and distinct rejection will satisfy you,” 
said the Countess, “ you are not hard to please, and what 
you wish for is quite at your service. As for my laugh- 
ing at you, that is another matter. Certainly I do not 
mean to marry you ; but I cannot see anything so irre- 
sistibly comic in the idea of your having fallen in love 
with me.” 

“No; there is nothing comic or extraordinary in 
that,” he agreed, with a sigh ; “what I meant was that 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


37 

your immense superiority to me in respect of rank and 
wealth ” 

“Ah, bah ! ” she interrupted ; “in your world and mine 
gradations of rank count for very little, and superiority 
of wealth only counts, or ought only to count, amongst 
our inferiors. I will not pay you so poor a compliment 
as to assume that you prostrate yourself before me (it is 
an unbecoming attitude, Mr. Colborne) simply because 
my family is an old one, and because I own more leagues 
of grazing land and vineyards than I have ever cared to 
reckon up.” 

‘ ‘ These are genuine obstacles, ” he returned, “ and I dare- 
say you would acknowledge them to be so if you didn’t 
feel that there was another obstacle so great as to make 
them sink into insignificance. You don't love me, and 
you never could love me ; that, to be sure, is reason 
enough, without troubling to mention the rest. ” 

“Well, I am afraid it is. Still, there are other obstacles 
which might be mentioned, and which are of greater force 
than those that you call genuine. Husband and wife 
ought to be of the same religion ; and I am even more 
profoundly separated from you than I should be if I were 
a devout Roman Catholic, for I have no religion at all. 
Husband and wife ought to have the same interests ; 
and I do not think that 1 could possibly interest myself in 
the things which interest you. Finally, a husband ought to 
be his wife’s master, and I have not the habit of obe- 
dience. Go home to your mother and your sisters and 
your English life, dear Mr. Colborne, and congratulate 
yourself upon the circumstance that, since you had to 
fall in love for *a few days with somebody, you have 
chanced upon a woman who, notwithstanding all her 
faults, is not cruel enough to embitter the remainder of 
your existence for you.” 

“I don’t think I quite understand you,” said the young 
man, with a puzzled frown ; “perhaps you don’t quite un- 
derstand me either. If it is true, as you say it is, that 
you have no religion, I am very sorry ; but that doesn’t 
prevent me from loving you, nor do I believe that your 
tastes are really so unlike mine as to make the difference 
worth considering, supposing that you could care for me. 
After all, the question begins and ends there, doesn’t it ? 
You make light of the difficulties which are very obvious 
to me, and I can’t see much cogency in those that you 


3§ 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 




speak of ; we both know that if the one supreme difficulty 
could be surmounted, we should snap our fingers at the 
rest. Believe at least that I love you and that I always 
shall love you. I don't think it is asking too much of you 
to ask that." 

He spoke with a certain concentrated vehemence which 
was not without visible effect upon the composure of his 
companion. However, she recovered herself without any 
great effort, and observed laughingly : 

“Very few people think it unreasonable to ask for a 
miracle ; millions ask for miracles every day, in the most 
matter of fact way, when they say their prayers. If, by 
a miracle, I should ever take to saying mine again, I shall 
not forget to request that this infatuation of yours may be 
shortened by a slight interference with the ordinary course 
of nature. In a word, Mr. Colborne, I do not love you ; 
so I presume there is nothing more to be said except good- 
bye." 

She rose and held out her hand, which he made so bold 
as to raise to his lips. There was nothing more to be 
said, and he moved towards the door without another 
word. But upon the threshold he was arrested by the 
sound of her voice. 

“ By the way, " said she, as coolly as if he had been a 
mere everyday visitor, “were you ever at Bagneres de 
Luchon in the Pyrenees ? " 

He had never heard of that watering-place, and he con- 
fessed as much, with a surprised and inquiring look. 

“I thought it was just possible that your wanderings 
might have taken you there, because all young English- 
men, when they wander, make for the mountains. I 
asked because Bickenbach and I think of taking up our 
quarters at Luchon in the month of August." 

“You will find me there when you arrive," Colborne de- 
clared, a sudden rush of hope causing his heart to leap up. 

“ Indeed ? Well, that would not be an actual miracle ; 
although I confess that I shall be ‘profoundly astonished 
if you keep your promise. In any case, you have given 
me an excuse to substitute au revoir for the ugly word 
adieu . " 

Thereupon she retired through a door facing that of 
which he held the handle between his fingers, and he left 
the house a happier and more sanguine man than he had 
been on entering it. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


39 


CHAPTER V. 

PEG GY ROWLEY. 

If Douglas Colborne had known a little more than he did 
about the woman whom he loved, he would probably have 
been less elated than he was by her parting words. Dr. 
Schott could have told him, and Bickenbach could have 
told him (only she would not have done so), that the Coun- 
tess Radna never willingly parted with an admirer, that she 
was quite as greedy of admiration as the rest of her sex, 
and that, although the kindness of her own heart would 
not permit her fo deliberately break the heart of a fellow- 
creature, experience had rendered her absolutely scep- 
tical as to the fragility of that organ. They might have 
added that she had taken a fancy to the young English- 
man, that psychological studies always possessed a 
certain fascination for her, and that Luchon is not quite 
the liveliest place in Europe. But of course he knew no 
more about her than that he loved her with all his heart 
and soul — which seemed to be enough. 

He was a simple-minded fellow (which really is not the 
same thing as being a fool, though nine people out of ten 
think that it is), and his simplicity very often led him to 
conclusions which, for wisdom and accuracy, were equal 
to any that Solomon himself could have formulated. 
Since, for his weal or woe, he loved this Hungarian Coun- 
tess as it is only given to mortals to love once during 
their sojourn here below, and since she had plainly invited 
him to join her in the south before the end of the summer, 
one thing at least was evident, whatever else might be 
doubtful, namely, that he must so frame his plans as to 
respond to her invitation. A good many other things 
were, of course, doubtful ; but it was better that some of 
them should be so than that they should have been placed 
beyond doubt in the sense which he had anticipated be- 
fore his visit to the Avenue Friedland ; while, as for the 
remainder — well, they were hardly ripe for consideration 
yet. 


40 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Thus he mused as he made his way towards the hotel 
where he was staying ; and certain further cogitations and 
vain imaginings, upon which it is needless to dwell, had 
made him quite cheerful by the time that he reached his 
destination, where a letter from his mother was awaiting 
him. Mrs. Colborne wrote such a vast number of letters 
every day that it would have been a matter of physical 
impossibility for her to make any of them lengthy : on the 
other hand her missives were usually to the point and 
invariably pleasant. This one was quite pleasant as re- 
garded diction, notwithstanding its somewhat reproving 
tone. The writer gave her son to understand that he had 
dallied long enough in Capua, and ought now to return 
without delay to the special duties and pleasures assigned 
to him by Heaven. ‘ ‘ Besides, ” was her last sentence, ‘ ‘ I 
have something important to tell you about ; so please 
telegraph to say by what train you will arrive.” 

Mrs. Colborne received her telegram and, not many 
hours after it had been delivered to her, had the addi- 
tional pleasure of receiving henson. He was a very obe- 
dient and satisfactory sort of son7 as sons go, and she had 
never had any reason to be x seriously displeased with him. 
Nor, for the matter of that, had he ever had reason to be 
seriously displeased with her, although she and he were 
not altogether in sympathy with each other. 

Everybody who has had the opportunity of doing so 
must have noticed the sympathy between mothers and 
sons which is so common as to be almost universal in 
France, and so rare as to be almost phenomenal in our 
own country. Perhaps we are a more independent race 
than our neighbors across the Channel, and perhaps in- 
dependence may have its drawbacks as well as its advan- 
tages. In any case, the very last thing that Douglas 
Colborne would have thought of doing would have been 
to confide to his mother the fact that he had fallen des- 
perately in love with a foreign countess. He had nothing 
so startling as that to say to her when he reached Stoke 
Leighton, the pleasant and desirable-looking estate, sit- 
uated on the borders of Berkshire and Buckinghamshire, 
which now owned him as its sole lord. There had been 
Colbornes at Stoke Leighton for many generations, and if 
the Colbornes of years gone by had been wealthier people 
than their present representative, the fault did not lie with 
him. Free trade was to blame for the change ; the ex- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


41 


tra vagan ce of some ancestors and the carelessness of 
others were also to blame ; but it was not Douglas Col- 
borne’s habit to blame anybody, and the sight of the old 
red-brick house which he loved aroused no other feelings 
in his heart than those which the sight of home ought al- 
ways to arouse in the breasts of honest folks. He was not 
rich; but then he did not particularly covet riches, hoping 
only that, by dint of thrift and management, he might be 
able to live in accordance with hereditary traditions. To 
accomplish that much was, from a pecuniary point of 
view, the summit of his ambitions. 

Mrs. Colborne may possibly and excusably have aspired 
to something a little more pretentious than that on his be- 
half. In fact, she hastened to assure him that she did, 
after she had poured out a cup of tea for him in her boudoir 
and had listened complacently to his declared conviction 
that there was no country like England, after all. 

“There is no harm in seeing other countries and other 
people/’ said she, with a fine toleration, “and I hope you 
will continue to make excursions abroad every now and 
then, like the rest of the world ; but of course your chief 
interest will have to be in your career ; and, what with 
cricket and hunting and shooting and the terrible length to 
which Parliamentary sessions run in these days, I am 
afraid you will never be able to absent yourself for more 
than a week or two at a time.” 

Mrs. Colborne was a small, alert woman, who had once 
been pretty and was still quite nice-looking, in spite of 
her gray hair. She had charming manners, she was 
universally popular, she had a keen, if somewhat restricted, 
sense of duty, and it had been her consistent endeavor 
to deserve the reputation which she enjoyed as the 
best of wives and mothers. Her late husband, a heavy, 
inert personage, had sometimes complained feebly of her 
superabundant energy, but nobody had ever thought of 
attaching importance to the complaints of the late Mr. 
Colborne. It was generally and very justly recognized 
that nothing except his wife’s energy had preserved him 
from drifting into bankruptcy. 

“Oh, the Parliamentary sessions, eh ?” said her son, 
smiling. “ Does that mean that I am to be pitchforked 
into Parliament ? ” 

“Well, I hope so : it was on account of that that I 
telegraphed to you. Poor old Mr. Majendie has had 


42 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


another bad attack of gout, and has at last announced 
that he doesn’t intend to seek re-election. So, you see, it 
is really important that you should be upon the spot and 
ready to come forward/' 

“As a Tory, I presume? ” 

‘‘Naturally. You don’t propose to come forward as a 
Radical, do you ? ” 

“ No ; only I am not sure that I am quite such a fossil 
as to be a worthy successor to old Majendie. However, 
I daresay a majority of the electors may have realized that 
the nineteenth century is nearly at an end, and may vote 
for me rather than for a Gladstonian, even though they 
may not share all my opinions. I shall have to commu- 
nicate with the people at head-quarters before I venture 
to recommend myself to this enlightened constituency, 
though, shan’t I ? ” 

“Oh, that has been done already. Peggy Rowley has 
espoused your cause, and she, as you know, is a host in 
herself. It is lucky for you that you have such an in- 
fluential supporter at your back.” 

“ I am very much indebted to her, I’m sure,” answered 
Douglas, in a tone which to a sensitive ear might have 
conveyed the impression that he did not so very much 
enjoy being indebted to anybody. As a matter of fact, 
the sincere attachment which he felt for his friend and 
neighbor Miss Rowley did not prevent him from wish- 
ing that she would kindly permit him to manage his own 
affairs in his own way. But it would have been ungra- 
cious to say this, and he was aware that he hurt his mother’s 
feelings if he did say it ; so he changed the subject. 

“Are the girls all right ?” he asked. “What has be- 
come of them ? ” 

“They are all right,” answered Mrs. Colborne; “they 
have gone out in the pony cart, I believe. I daresay 
they will be in presently.” 

Presently they came in — fat, good-humored Loo, who 
was older than her brother and who had accepted in 
advance the role of an old maid which her homely features 
rather than her years appeared to have allotted to her, 
followed by Phyllis, a tall, dark, handsome girl, whose 
resolute little mouth, perfectly fitting costume, and air of 
conscious superiority to her elder sister seemed to in- 
dicate that she had realized the responsibilities which 
devolved upon her as the beauty of the family. They were 


THE COUNTESS EADNA. 


.43 


both of them affectionate in their welcome and eager to 
hear what special attractions had caused Douglas to prolong 
his stay in Paris. Their curiosity, it is needless to say, was 
not gratified ; nor was it participated in by Mrs. Colborne, 
who was an optimist, and who, having made up her mind 
that her son was eventually to espouse Miss Rowley, 
could not imagine that he would be provoking enough to 
think of marrying anybody else. While the girls were 
drinking their tea and expressing their high appreciation 
of the presents of jewellery which their brother had not 
forgotten to purchase for them, she was preoccupied with 
her own little ideas, .and, after the manner of parents, paid 
but slight attention to the chatter of her offspring ; but at 
length she broke silence to remark : 

“ There is a garden-party at Swinford to-morrow. Of 
course you will come, and then Peggy will tell you all 
about it. She understands these things a great deal better 
than I do.” 

Douglas sighed. “ I do so hate garden-parties ! ” said 
he. “Couldn’t I find some other and more comfortable 
opportunity of seeing Peg and hearing alhabout it ? There 
is plenty of time, you know; we aren’t upon the eve of a 
general election yet.” 

“We may be upon the eve of Mr. Majendie’s death, 
though,” observed his mother. “ One hopes that the poor 
old man may live for a great many years to come ; but 
gout in the stomach is a very serious thing. I really don’t 
think you can afford to be idle.” 

“You ought to be there, Douglas,” said Phyllis, deci- 
sively. “ She knows that you were to come home to-day ; 
and after all the trouble that she has taken for you, the 
least you can do is to accept her invitation.” 

“Besides,” chimed in Loo, “ she will be so awfully dis- 
appointed if you don’t turn up.” 

“Far be it from me,” said Douglas, “to inflict an un- 
deserved disappointment upon my benefactress. I sup- 
pose she is my benefactress, and I suppose it is my duty 
to thank her, isn’t it ? ” 

Both the young ladies opined that it was, while Mrs. 
Colborne remarked for the second time that he was lucky 
in possessing so energetic and capable a partisan. Per- 
haps Mrs. Colborne was right, and undoubtedly he would 
owe a debt of gratitude to Peggy Rowley if she should 
manage to secure a seat in Parliament for him, because 


44 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


he was really more anxious to get into the House of Com- 
mons than to achieve any other success, save and except 
that impossible one of winning the Countess Radna’s heart ; 
still he not unnaturally felt that he would prefer, for choice, 
to win an election upon his own merits, such as they were. 
However, he accompanied his mother and sisters to the 
garden-party at Swinford Manor on the following after- 
noon, and received that warm welcome from the lady of 
the manor which past experience had justified him in 
anticipating. 

Miss Margaret Rowley was bymo means so wealthy and 
magnificent a lady as the Countess Radna, but she occu- 
pied a position quite as independent and enjoyed an in- 
come more than sufficient for her personal needs. Like 
the Countess, she was an only child and an orphan ; like 
her, she was sole mistress of many acres of land ; but, 
unlike her, she was not in the least discontented with her 
lot. If everybody liked Peggy Rowley, that was doubt- 
less because Peggy Rowley liked everybody — or almost 
everybody. She had aristocratic connections and an enor- 
mous acquaintance ; her father had been a politician who 
had held high offices, and after his death she had not lost 
sight of her friends ; the world had never given her cause 
to quarrel with it, nor had she ever dreamt of doing so on 
account of its many imperfections — which, to be sure, 
were less apparent to her than they were to the lady who 
had fascinated her old playmate, Douglas Colborne. She 
was a year older than her former playmate ; she was prob- 
ably justified in deeming herself somewhat wiser and more 
experienced ; she had certainly seen far more of society, 
political and other, than he had, and had been free to follow 
her own bent for a much longer period. Considering how 
young she still was, she possessed quite an extraordinary 
amount of political and social influence, counting cabinet 
ministers amongst her intimates, and associating habitually 
with those great ladies who may not be as absolutely great 
in these days as they used to be, yet continue to be a 
power in the land. Where the Countess unquestionably 
had the advantage over her was in point of comeliness ; 
for it must be confessed that Peggy Rowley was no beauty. 
At the same time, she was not plain : she had to some 
extent the beaute du diable. If her features were irregular, 
and if her coloring was of that indeterminate brown shade 
which gave the very few people who wished to depreciate 


THE COUNTESS RAD'NA. 


45 


her an excuse for describing- her as whitey-brown, she had 
white teeth, the clear complexion of health and a neat little 
figure : for an heiress, she was anything but bad-looking, 
and it was only by her own good-will and pleasure that 
she remained a spinster. 

“ So here you are, back from your travels,” said she, as 
Douglas Colborne crossed the lawn, which was crowded 
with her guests, to shake hands with her. “ How did you 
like the Roystons ? and how did you like Paris ? Come 
and see my gloxinias and tell me all about it.” 

He followed her towards the hot-house, which she indi- 
cated by a wave of her sunshade, but did not immediately 
comply with her other request. ‘ 'Isn’t it you Who are 
going to tell me all about it ? ” he asked. ‘ ‘ I thought it 
was ; or, at all events, that was what my mother thought 
and gave me to understand. In fact, she mentioned your 
being able to tell me all about it as an overwhelming 
inducement to me to attend a garden-party. ” 

“ You haven't stayed long enough in France to get rid 
of your insular candor, I see. Nevermind, lean forgive 
you. Garden-parties are a bore, I admit, and I shouldn’t 
give them if I could help it ; but I am glad you have over- 
come your repugnance to them for once, because of 
course we must talk over this election business. It will 
be all right, I hope. Everybody wants you to come 
forward, including old Mr. Majendie, who is here to-day, 
by-the-bye, and who wants to speak to you. You won’t 
have a walk over ; but I haven’t the slightest doubt you 
will win, unless something utterly unforeseen occurs 
between this and then. Only we must begin to bestir our- 
selves, you know ; it won’t do to let things slide until the 
last moment.” 

She gave him a rapid and concise account of the 
measures which she had already taken on his behalf. 
Apparently nothing more was required of him than to make 
a considerable number of speeches and to abstain, if pos- 
sible, from making a conspicuous fool of himself. It was 
all very well, and he could only express his sincere thanks 
to her and to those who had acted with her ; yet it did 
strike him that he had been treated rather like a lay figure 
and that his individual opinions, wishes, and convictions 
had not been held worthy of being taken into account. 

“And what if I were to kick over the traces?” he 
inquired at length, half laughingly. 


46 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


“ Oh, you won’t do that. In fact, I don’t see how you 
can, because the old Tory party is extinct, and has left no 
traces behind it to be kicked over. However advanced 
you may be, there is no fear of your being- more advanced 
than your constituents. Only you must be able to say 
‘ shibboleth ’ without lisping, which I should think would 
be within the range of your powers. You haven’t deigned 
to glance at my poor gloxinias yet. Aren’t they glorious ? ” 

They were far more glorious than the prospects of Tory- 
ism in this country, and he paid them the tribute of admi- 
ration that they deserved ; but his hostess had no admi- 
ration to spare for the democratic-conservative principles 
which he proceeded to expound, nor did she seem to think 
that his principles were of any great consequence. 

“The main thing is to win the election,” said she. 
“When once you have done that it will be your business 
to reconcile your ideas with those of your chief, or to make 
him reconcile his with yours, if you are strong enough. 
Now, let us hear what you did with yourself in Paris, 
besides dining at the Embassy and seeing the Grand Prix 
run. ” 

She very soon found out from him as much as she wanted 
to know. He did not absolutely admit her into his con- 
fidence ; but she was so old and so true a friend that he 
had no hesitation in mentioning the Countess Radna to 
her — (he had not mentioned the Countess Radna to his 
mother) — and she drew her own conclusions from his art- 
less description of that lady. Whether those conclusions 
were satisfactory to her or not, nobody could have divined 
from her face, which betrayed no emotion beyond a kindly 
and sympathetic interest ; but at the end of a quarter of 
an hour she cut short his remarks by declaring that she 
had neglected her guests long enough, and reminding him 
that he ought not to leave without saying a few words to 
Mr. Majendie. 

Mr. Majendie, a frail old gentleman, whose withered 
cheeks were as white as his beard, and who had been an 
intimate friend of the late Mr. Colborne, held out his hand 
to his probable successor with many -amiable professions 
of good will. 

“ I have fought my fight,” said he (not that he had ever 
fought with much ferocity) ; “ now the time has come for 
me to be helped out of the lists and for a younger man to 
put on the armor which has become too heavy for me to 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


47 

wear. I couldn’t wish it to be donned by a more promis- 
ing aspirant than your father’s son. ” 

He then gave utterance to the customary commonplaces, 
and intimated that such powers as he still possessed would 
be very much at the service of the new candidate. ‘ ‘ How- 
ever,” he added, with a smile, “ Miss Rowley can do a 
great deal more for you than I can. She means to get you 
in, and it is written that Miss Rowley shall always have 
her own way.” 

That might be so ; but perhaps it was not written that 
Douglas Colborne should always have his own way, nor 
even that Mrs. Colborne should always have hers. 

“What have you done to affront Peggy Rowley? ” the 
latter inquired of her son, as they set off on their home- 
ward drive. “She told me just now that you were not 
half as wise and sober as you looked, and that I should 
find that out some finq day. I wonder what she meant.” 

“I can’t think,” answered Douglas, who, however, was 
not without some suspicion of Miss Rowley’s meaning. 

“Well,” observed Mrs. Colborne more cheerfully, after 
a pause, “at all events you have a fair prospect of get- 
tingdnto Parliament now ; and, if you do get in, you will 
owe your success chiefly to her. I hope you won’t forget 
that. ” 

“I am sure you will never allow me to do so,” returned 
her son, rather dryly. 


CHAPTER VI. 

DOUGLAS KEEPS HIS APPOINTMENT. 

Miss Rowley was far too prominent a figure in contem- 
porary society, and far too much enamored of the part 
which she played as a member of it, to linger for more 
than a day or two in her country residence at that early 
period of the summer. She had a little town-house in 
Mayfair to which she betook herself soon after her garden- 
party, accompanied by old Miss Spofforth, her duenna ; 
so that Douglas Colborne had no immediate opportunity 
of asking her why she had been so inconsiderate as to 


48 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


express doubts respecting his wisdom and sobriety to his 
mother. But, as has been said, he was able to conjecture, 
without need for positive information, what she had had 
in her mind when she had been guilty of that indiscretion, 
and the only effect it had upon him was to make him re- 
solve that he himself would be less indiscreet for the future. 
Although he suspected that his mother wanted him to 
marry Peggy Rowley, he was perfectly sure that Peggy 
Rowley had no notion of marrying him, and he would as 
soon have chosen that trustworthy ally of his for a con- 
fidant as another had he felt any craving for a confidant ; 
but, all things considered, it seemed best to keep his own 
counsel and kill time somehow or other until the month 
of August, “ when/’ thought he, ‘‘I shall know, once for 
all, whether there is a shadow of a hope for me or not/’ 

The filling up of his time during that period of suspense 
was a task which presented no difficulty. From the mo- 
ment that he signified his willingness to be placed in 
nomination by the Conservatives of the constituency as 
their representative at the next general election, he found 
that his presence on many platforms was more or less 
obligatory. In addition to this, the management of the 
Stoke Leighton property, which he had taken into his x own 
hands, and which for a long time past had been conducted 
upon very slack and unbusinesslike principles, gave him 
more than a sufficiency of daily work to get through. 
Even if he had had no work to do, he would have been 
pretty well provided with various forms of play ; for he 
was an ardent cricketer, it had always been his custom to 
attend the race-meetings and the athletic contests which 
were frequented by his friends, and, as he was a popular 
young man, he was reminded every morning by a shoal 
of invitations that the London season was now in full 
swing. He would not have objected to taking his mother 
and sisters up to town for six weeks or so ; but Mrs. Col- 
borne represented to him that, both on financial and social 
grounds, this would be an undesirable move. She was 
in too deep mourning to go out yet ; she doubted whether 
in any case she could afford to entertain, and she did not 
wish him to spend his money on her. The girls might 
perhaps run up for a day or two at a time to Peggy 
Rowley or some other friend, but they were quite resigned 
to the prospect of spending that summer quietly at home. 

“By next summer,” added Mrs. Colborne, with a smile 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


49 


which was half-regretful, half-anticipatory, “ the dear old 
place may not be our home any longer — who knows ? I 
shall be very willing to leave it as soon as you have 
chosen my successor, because I am sure your choice will 
be a good one.” 

Douglas laughed, and observed that his choice might 
possibly not be that of the person chosen ; whereupon 
Mrs. Colborne, laughing also, returned confidently, “Oh, 
I think it will. But we shall see.” 

Now, although the young aspirant for parliamentary 
honors felt in duty bound to decline most of the above- 
mentioned invitations, he did contrive, by means of 
frequent railway journeys, to put in an appearance at a 
fair number of London entertainments ; and at one of 
these it was at once his privilege and his pleasure to en- 
counter Lady Royston. She recognized him immediately, 
and forestalled a question which he would not have been 
able to resist asking, by beginning to talk about the 
Countess Radna. 

“Your Hungarian friend has been causing a sensation 
in Vienna, I hear,” said she. “I suppose she rather 
likes producing sensations, doesn't she ? ” 

“I really don't know,” answered Douglas; “but I 
shouldn't think she did : that sort of achievement would 
be too easily accomplished to excite her ambition. How 
has she been scandalizing Vienna? ” 

“ Only by engaging herself to Count Siedenberg and 
breaking off her engagement at the last moment, without 
any ostensible reason. Count Siedenberg, I must tell 
you, is a most magnificent personage, and the match 
would have been a grand one even for her; but she has 
chosen to throw him over, and it seems that she has 
got into great disgrace at Court about it. She pretends 
not to care, they say ; but of course she must care, and of 
course everybody declares now that she has formed some 
unfortunate attachment. I trust that you are not the 
culprit.” 

Lady Royston was only joking ; but the young man’s 
heightened color caused her to open her eyes and 
wonder whether she might not perchance have spoken a 
true word in jest ; while Peggy Rowley, who joined the 
pair at this moment and who had caught her last sentence, 
asked : 

“ What are you accusing him of? Judging by his 

4 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


5 ° 

face, he is guilty. Now, Lady Royston, if you have been 
corrupting an innocent English squire by introducing him 
to French ladies of uncertain reputation, I will never for- 
give you.” 

Lady Royston was a good deal in awe of Peggy Rowley, 
whose plain speech and abrupt manner always affected 
her with a sensation of nervous dread as to what might 
be coming next. She hastened to explain that the lady 
whom they had been discussing was Hungarian, not 
French ; that her reputation was absolutely unblemished, 
and that an English squire had as little to fear from her 
as she had from him. 

“ Oh, there is a lady in the case, then,” said the relent- 
less Peggy ; “I thought he couldn’t be blushing in that 
undisguised way for anything less. The same lady, 
perhaps,” she added, turning to Douglas, “ about whom 
you told me — the one who has everything that the heart 
of woman can desire, except a husband. And, after all, 
that is a blessing which isn’t desired by the heart of every 
woman in the world. I forget what you said her name 
was. ” 

Miss Rowley was speedily informed of the lady’s 
name, and also of the circumstance that she had recently 
proved herself to be one of those exceptional women who 
do not desire to be provided with a husband. She was 
likewise told of the conspicuous favors which it had 
pleased the Countess Radna to bestow upon Douglas 
Colborne, and she did not fail to chaff her young friend 
unmercifully about his conquest. Douglas took her chaff 
with perfect good humor, though he inwardly con- 
gratulated himself upon having resisted the inclination 
which he had felt at the time to let her into the secret. 
First and last, he had let Peggy into a good many of 
his secrets, and he had always found her friendly and 
sympathetic ; but it was evident that she would not have 
sympathized with his present predicament, nor in truth 
could he have expected her to do so. She was too 
sensible — possibly also a little too hard — to sympathize 
with what was obviously ridiculous. Ridiculous it must 
obviously be for him to flatter himself that he had had 
the remotest connection with the Countess’s rupture of a 
suitable alliance— why, indeed, should she have thought 
of forming such an alliance, unless she had been wholly 
fancy-free ? Yet the fact remains that he was excited, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


5 


and in some measure elated, by the news which he had 
heard. At the bottom of his heart he cherished a convic- 
tion that he haO. not been invited to travel all the way to 
Bagneres de Luchon for nothing. Likewise he esteemed 
the woman whom he loved too highly to believe that she 
could have been actuated by a mere ignoble wish to 
retain one obscure name upon the lengthy list of her 
admirers. 

However that might be, he fully intended to keep his 
tryst, and was fully determined to say nothing about 
that intention until the time should be at hand for execut- 
ing it. During the remainder of the season he met Miss 
Rowley pretty frequently, and they had divers long 
confabulations together upon political topics ; but she 
did not again refer to the Countess Radna, nor did he 
care again to introduce that lady’s name into their col- 
loquies. Early in July she left London, and it was not 
until the last days of that month that Mrs. Colborne’s 
heart was gladdened by the intelligence of the impend- 
ing return of her fair neighbor to Swinford Manor. 

‘‘Peggy is coming home in a week or ten days,” the 
unsuspecting lady- announced joyfully to her son, one 
morning. “ Now we may hope to keep you at home too. 
I was afraid you were getting bored here, and that you 
would be wanting to be off to Scotland or somewhere.” 

“ Well, the fact is,” answered Douglas, “that I shall be 
off in a day or two. I am sorry to miss Peggy ; but I dare- 
say I shall find her here when I come back. I am think- 
ing of spending a few weeks in the Pyrenees.” 

“The Pyrenees ! ” echoed Mrs. Colborne, with a look of 
consternation ; “ what on earth can be taking you there ? 
What does one do in the Pyrenees? Are you going 
alone ? ” 

“Oh, yes, I am going alone. I can’t tell you exactly 
what one does there. One shoots isards, I believe, if one 
wants to shoot them, and I suppose one ascends moun- 
tains and admires the scenery. Anyhow, it will be a 
change.” 

Mrs. Colborne said all that she could in opposition to a 
project which seemed to her to be singularly ill-timed. 
She expressed surprise that his engagements should per- 
mit of his leaving England ; she represented that he ought 
really to be within reach, in case of anything happening 
to poor Mr. Majendie, and she urged that even a tempo- 


5 2 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


rary separation between him and those who were likely to 
influence his election was to be deprecated ; but he had 
answers ready for all these objections, and she knew better 
than to jeopardize her power over her son by a fruitless 
assertion of domestic tyranny. Happily, it did not occur 
to her, after ascertaining that he was to travel alone, to 
inquire whether he expected to meet anybody on reach- 
ing his destination ; for he was a truthful man, and, had 
she put such a question, he would have had to give her a 
truthful reply. 

As it was, he was not called upon to face any embar- 
rassing examination. Phyllis, it is true, appeared to smell 
a rat, and displayed an inquisitive spirit which, in his capa- 
city of her elder brother, he deemed it incumbent upon him 
to rebuke ; but he dealt more leniently with Loo, who only 
sighed, and remarked: “It is a great pity, your going 
away just when Peggy is expected home. I’m afraid she 
will think you don’t care about seeing her.” 

“If she thinks that,” he returned, “ she will be much 
mistaken. Tell her from me that, unless something alto- 
gether unforeseen happens, I shall be back in time to shoot 
her pheasants — not to speak of her partridges. Between 
you and me, though, my dear old Loo, I doubt whether 
she would break her heart if I never came back at 
all. ” 

Loo was of a contrary opinion, and proclaimed it so 
emphatically as to provoke an outburst of laughter on his 
part. Loo was like his mother : she believed the ugly 
duckling of the family to be a fit mate for any swan,' and 
would have been honestly amazed at his rejection by the 
greatest heiress in England. Naturally, he himself was 
subject to no such illusion, nor did he for a moment sup- 
pose that Peggy Rowley would accept his hand and heart 
if he were to offer her those treasures — which thing he had 
not the slightest intention of doing. Only he did think 
that Peggy was capable of making some sarcastic remarks 
respecting his sudden anxiety to inspect the Spanish fron- 
tier ; and that was why he was not sorry to escape from 
the country without bidding her farewell. 

It was on the third of August that he reached the little 
Pyrenean watering-place which has always been a favorite 
resort of fashionable Parisians and has become more so 
since the patriotic pride of these ladies and gentlemen has 
forbidden them to disport themselves at Baden-Baden. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


53 


Luchon, lying in a narrow green valley, hemmed in on 
either side by wooded hills, above which a glimpse of 
snow-clad summits may occasionally be caught, is one of 
the most charming spots in a charming region. Its love- 
liness is not, perhaps, enhanced by the presence of the 
said ladies and genilemen, who, when they are not gam- 
bling at the Casinopr listening to the band, are for the most 
part galloping full tilt along the high road on hired horses 
and cracking their whips ; yet there is compensation in all 
things, and its hotels would doubtless be less numerous 
and less comfortable without the distinguished patronage 
which the place enjoys. Douglas Colborne, at all events, 
had not undertaken that long, hot and dusty journey in 
search of solitude ; so that his appreciation of a good dinner 
on his arrival was not marred by any sense of incongruity 
between the chattering, gayly-attired throng around him 
and the solemn, silent mountains by which he and they 
w r ere overshadowed. He had ascertained, by an exami- 
nation of the visitor’s book, that the Countess Radna was 
not staying at the hotel where he had taken up his quarters ; 
but this was scarcely a disappointment to him. She had 
only said that she proposed to be at Luchon in the month 
of August ; she had not specified a date, and he was quite 
prepared to await her advent patiently for a week or more, 
if need be. 

His patience, as it turned out, was not_subjected even 
to that moderate strain ; for, wandering away from the 
hotel on the following morning, in obedience to the 
natural impulse which prompts those who are at the bot- 
tom of a. valley to make for the top of some hill or other, 
he found himself all of a sudden in the presence of the 
lady with whom he was at the moment rehearsing an 
imaginary encounter. She was descending and he was 
ascending one of the zigzag paths which lead through the 
woods behind the Etablissement to the grassy heights of 
Superbagneres. She was unaccompanied ; she held a 
large bunch of wild flowers in one hand and a long stick 
in the other — which was, perhaps, a sufficient reason for 
her accosting him merely with a bow. She was not in 
the least taken aback, although he, who had anticipated a 
meeting which must have seemed to her highly improba- 
ble, was quite deprived of the power of speech by so 
abrupt a fulfilment of his hopes. 

“You look astonished,” she remarked, with a smile. 


54 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


“Nevertheless, I understood you to say, when we parted, 
that I should find you here about this time. ” 

“ Yes,” answered Douglas, recovering himself, “ unless 
I am mistaken, you answered that you would be pro- 
foundly astonished if you did.” m 

“ Did I ? I am sorry I cannot keep my word ; but it 
is a fact that I am not at all astonished. However, I am 
sincerely pleased, if that will do as well. Have you been 
here long ? ” 

He hardly knew what to make of this matter-of-course 
reception. He was glad that she had expected him and 
glad that she was pleased to see him ; yet some show of 
surprise or' perturbation on her part might have been a 
rather more hopeful sign. 

“ Anyhow, here I am,” was his rejoinder, “ and, as you 
know that I have only come here to meet you, you won’t 
shut your door in my face again as you did in Paris, will 
you ? ” 

“Not for the world ! I apologize for ever having been 
so rude, but I suppose I must have had my reasons. 
What can they have been, I wonder? At all events, the 
door of Chalet -des Rosiers, which is my present abode, 
stands open from the time the servants get up in the 
morning until after sunset. Bickenbach is with me and 
so is Dr. Schott, whom you may remember. By his ad- 
vice I am going through a course of baths ; though he 
can’t tell me — and Pm sure I can’t tell him — why I should 
require sulphur baths. What I do require, and what is 
doing me an immensity of good, is a course of peace and 
liberty. ” 

He expressed a desire to share the fruition of those 
blessings with her, and, as she did not forbid him to do 
so, they strolled through the woods together for half an 
hour; after which she dismissed him, saying that it was 
time for her to partake of her midday meal. He ascer- 
tained the situation of her villa, and then bent his steps 
meditatively towards his hotel ; endeavoring, as he went, 
to sum up the results of an interview to which he had 
looked forward for so many weeks, and which had not at 
all resembled his anticipations of it. In one sense it had 
been satisfactory enough ; but, upon the whole, it had 
puzzled and disappointed him. The Countess had been 
perfectly friendly, perfectly at her ease, and had seemed 
to take it for granted that during the rest of her sojourn at 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


55 


Luchon they would meet frequently ; but she had not 
chosen to allude in the most distant manner to the dec- 
laration that he had made before parting 1 with her in Paris, 
and a lack of courage for which he was inclined to re- 
proach himself had prevented him from renewing it. They 
had simply talked about trifles like a couple of tolerably 
intimate friends, which was really ridiculous. A certain 
virility and tenacity of purpose with which this young 
man was dowered, notwithstanding his genuine modesty, 
made him resolve that he would at least not accept the 
position of an amiable but impossible soupirant. 

Thus it came to pass that, on the succeeding day, he 
betook himself to the Chalet des Rosiers with a decided 
step and a mind firmly set upon the speedy fulfilment of 
his destiny, whatever that might be. The pretty little 
wooden house, built in florid imitation of the Swiss order - * 
of domestic architecture, stood in the midst of a large 
and shady flower-garden, through which a brawling tor- 
rent, spanned by several rustic bridges, hurried on its way 
down the valley to meet the Garonne. A fat man, who 
wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, .was seated in the gar- 
den, smoking a long pipe with a china bowl and perusing 
a German newspaper. He dropped the newspaper, and 
removed the pipe from his lips and his hat from his head 
as the visitor approached, saying : 

“ I was about to do myself the honor of calling upon 
you, sir.” 

“How do you do, Dr. Schott?” returned Douglas, 
affably. “ I am glad to have saved you the trouble of 
a walk in this hot sun.” 

“ Oh, the trouble would have been nothing ; I am 
accustomed to taking trouble. But, to speak honestly, I 
should not have ventured to remind you of our so slight 
acquaintance if I had not been commissioned to deliver a 
message to you from the Countess, who, par parenihese , 
is not at home. Pray, take a chair ; in such weather on 
fait bien de se mettre a T abri 

The doctor was rather proud of his French which he 
was seldom permitted to air in the presence of his patro- 
ness, whose sensitive ear would not tolerate such methods 
of pronunciation as “bar barendese ” or “a lapn 
Douglas Colborne was less fastidious ; but he did not 
much like Dr. Schott, who was scrutinizing him with a 
somewhat sardonic smile, and who, as he was aware, had 


56 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


not failed to notice his vexation on learning that he was 
not to be admitted into the house. 

“ Thank you/’ he answered rather curtly, “ but I don’t 
think I’ll wait, since the Countess Radna is not at home. 
You had a message for me from her ? ” 

The truth was that he fully believed the Countess to be 
at home at that moment ; if so, the chances were that her 
message would not prove to be a welcome one. How- 
ever, he was wrong ; for the Countess was really out walk- 
ing, and the communication which the Doctor presently 
made to him on her behalf turned out to be of a nature to 
raise his spirits and his hopes. The Countess, it appeared, 
had been suddenly seized with a craze for what her phy- 
sician called “ les crandes ascensions ” On the morrow, 
she, attended by her limited suite, proposed to set forth 
with a view to scaling the Pic de Nethou, which is the 
highest summit of the Pyrenean range, and it had occurred 
to her that Mr. Colborne might like to be of the party. 
Mr. Colborne, it need scarcely be said, asked for nothing 
better, and was complimented upon his alacrity by his 
interlocutor, who remarked sadly : 

“You have long legs and a light body ; I have a heavy 
body and short legs. For you it may be a pleasure to 
scramble over rocks and ice and snow ; for me it is a very 
great misery. Also a foolish and a most unnecessary 
misery. ” 

“ Then why you should do it I don’t know, ” said Doug- 
las, pertinently. 

“Because I am paid to do it, my dear sir,” responded 
the corpulent German, with a half-impatient chuckle, “be- 
cause I have to be in attendance upon my employer, for 
whom over-exertion is at least as dangerous as it is for me. 
What if she were to faint or to sprain her ankle, or even 
to break a limb, which is a very possible event ? I am 
compelled to be with her, although you are not, and I 
shall not be surprised if, at the end of this expedition, she 
has to remain in her bed for a week. I have told her as 
much ; but ce que femme veut ! ” 

He shrugged his fat shoulders, and, after a pause, men- 
tioned the arrangements which had been made in prepara- 
tion for the expedition. The start was to be effected as 
early as possible on the following morning ; they were to 
drive as far as the Hospice de Luchon at the head of the 
valley ; thence they were to cross the Port de V6nasque 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


57 


on mules or on foot, and they were to spend the night 
“ in some horrible cavern ” on the slopes of the Maladetta. 
Beyond that no mule could go ; so that the ascent of the 
mountain itself must be accomplished by the exercise of 
such powers of wind and limb as these unaccustomed 
pedestrians might possess amongst them. 

“ I do not think,” observed Dr. Schott, pensively, “that 
the Baroness will climb higher than the cave ; we shall 
have to leave her there. As for me I can only hope that 
my strength may hold out as long as the Countess’s ; for 
where she goes I must go. ” 

Such heroic determination deserved abetter reward than 
the laughter with which Douglas Colborne greeted it. 
For his own part he was secretly in hopes that when the 
time came the Doctor might be prevailed upon to share 
Bickenbach’s lonely tenancy of the cave, and that it would 
be his happy lot to escort the Countess to the summit, 
accompanied only by guides and porters, who would not 
understand what they were saying to one another. It 
was a pleasing vision, and it sent him back to the hotel 
quite exultant. 


CHAPTER VII. 

ON THE PIC DE NETHOU. 


It will perhaps be permitted to an old climber to doubt 
whether mountaineering is quite the most suitable or be- 
coming form of exercise for ladies to adopt : he may at 
least take it upon himself to affirm that they will hardly 
find its immediate results becoming. However, it is far 
too late in the day to protest against the participation of 
woman in every pursuit affected by man ; and since it 
pleases them to hunt, shoot, drive four-in-hand and ac- 
tually invade the sanctity of the smoking-room, some of 
us may take comfort from the thought that we are, hap- 
pily, not bound to be present when they do these things. 
For the rest, the Pic de Nethou is not the Matterhorn ; it 
is not even Mont Blanc or Monte Rosa ; it is a mountain 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


58 

of which the ascent implies little difficulty or danger, 
though it does imply fatigue and a certain amount of hard- 
ship. The Countess Radna, to whom danger and dif- 
ficulty were words of delight, was easily fatigued and 
hated discomfort ; hence it may be inferred that her res- 
olution to set foot on the highest point of the Pyrenees 
was due to some other motive than that of enhancing the 
high reputation for courage which she already enjoyed. 
But what was her motive ? This was what Douglas Col- 
borne was curious to discover, and this was what he made 
so bold as to inquire of her, while he was plodding by the 
side of her mule up the slopes of the Port de Venasque, a 
pass which has to be traversed before the Maladetta moun- 
tains can bg reached from Luchon. The sky was cloud- 
less and the Teat overpowering. Dr. Schott, who pre- 
ceded his gracious employer up the narrow path, was 
mopping his brow and trying to accommodate the move- 
ments of his unwieldy body to those of the rough-paced 
animal which he bestrode ; a little farther ahead the Baro- 
ness von Bickenbach, under a huge white umbrella, was 
sighing and uttering despondent ejaculations in her native 
tongue ; the army of porters whom the Countess had 
engaged were groaning under the preposterous load of 
baggage which she had laid upon Their shoulders. She 
pointed to the., cor/ege with her small gloved hand, and 
said : 

* ‘ Can you ask ? What can be more amusing than to force 
ofte’s fellow-creatures into making themselves thoroughly 
unhappy and supremely ridiculous in obedience to one’s 
whims ? The sort of power which belongs to money is an 
ignoble sort of power, if you like ; but that does not make 
the exercise of it any the less entertaining.” 

“ I don’t believe you are so ill-natured as that comes to,” 
Colborne declared. 

“ Oh, you don't ? Well, it is true that I haven’t paid you 
to walk up this steep hill, and that you are walking' up it, 
when you might have ridden, entirely by your own good 
will and pleasure.” 

“ It is evident that if I had mounted a mule, I couldn’t 
have walked beside you ; which seems to show that wealth 
is not your only source of power.” 

“You are kind enough to say so, and you mean, I pre- 
sume, to convey a delicate compliment to my personal 
appearance, But in reality I depend almost entirely upon 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


59 


my wealth : a few years hence I shall depend entirely upon 
it. And, when all is said, it isn’t omnipotent. At the pres- 
ent moment I am in such deep disgrace that, notwithstand- 
ing all my wealth, I should scarcely be received in Vienna 
if I were to take it into my head to go there next winter/' 

“ Yes ; I heard something about that,” said Douglas, 
with quickened interest ; “ Lady Royston told me. I wish 
you would tell me the whole story — that is, if you don't 
mind talking about it.” 

“Not in the least,” answered the Countess, laughing ; 
“only there isn’t much of a story to tell, and, such as it 
is, it was public property from the first. Count Siedenberg 
did me the honor to ask me to marry him, and as Count 
Siedenberg is a middle-aged man of whom I have always 
stood rather in awe, besides being quite the most influential 
bachelor in Austria, I saw no reason why I shouldn’t accept 
him. But when I came to know him more intimately, I 
found that he didn’t inspire me with awe any longer, which 
robbed him of his chief attraction. Consequently I broke 
off the affair, and the grandees were furious with me. That 
is all.” 

“ I believe you threw the man over because you didn’t 
love him, and I don’t believe you accepted him because he 
was influential, or because you were afraid of him,” said 
Douglas. 

“Is that your view ? ” asked the Countess, with a yawn. 

‘ £ Possibly you may be right : in any case, the thing is 
over and done with ; so it doesn’t much matter whether 
you are right or wrong. ” 

‘ £ It matters a great deal to me, ” Douglas declared eagerly; 
and he would have proceeded to explain precisely why it 
mattered, had he not been interrupted by a request from 
his companion that he would step forward and reassure 
Bickenbach, who showed signs of becoming seriously 
alarmed by the precipitous nature of the incline up which 
her mule was scrambling. 

The shaly acclivity which they had now reached, and 
which is swept during the spring by constant avalanches, 
was in truth somewhat precipitous ; so that a nervous old 
lady might be excused for doubting whether she was not 
in some danger of presently starting an avalanche on her 
own account by being hurled, head first, among the boul- 
ders that* bordered the track ; but, after half an hour of 
agony, the Baroness was safely led through the narrow cleft 


6o 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


which is known as the Port de Venasque, and forgot hei 
terrors in shrill admiration of the prospect revealed to her. 

There are more beautiful prospects in Europe than that 
which is to be obtained from the Port de Venasque ; but 4 
there are few which burst upon the spectator with such 
dramatic suddenness. The step which takes him out of 
France into Spain not unfrequently lands him in a totally 
different weather-system, and always presents him with a 
totally different aspect of nature, from those which he has 
just quitted. The scene which Douglas Colborne and the 
Baroness von Bickenbach beheld at the end of their long 
ascent was one of wild and desolate grandeur, partially 
obscured by heavy clouds. These hung low over the 
bare hills and cornfields of Arragon, breaking up that por- 
tion of the view into broad patches of light and shade ; 
but the rugged, menacing mass of the Maladetta, which 
rose directly before them, was distinctly visible, with its 
glaciers, its rocky slopes and its pine forests, devastated 
by the passage of a thousand tempests and avalanches. 
Thither the Baroness turned her eyes, after exhausting her 
vocabulary of adjectives (which, to tell the truth, were 
somewhat comically inappropriate) upon the coloring of 
the' more distant regions, and when the Pic de Nethou was 
pointed out to her, she shuddered from head to foot. 

“And it is to that frightful peak that you propose to 
take my poor Countess Helene ! ” she exclaimed. “ But, 
my dear sir, it is impossible ! She will never reach it 
alive ! ” 

“ I think she will,” observed the Countess, composedly. 
“You, perhaps, would not; but then you haven’t my 
extraordinary ardor for scaling heights. The difference 
between you and me, Bickenbach, is that, although you 
can walk from the Avenue Friedland to the Bastile without 
fatigue, which I can’t, I am capable, when under the in- 
fluence of excitement, of enjoying exertions and privations 
which you would rather die quietly at once than face. It 
is your plain destiny to abide in valleys ; and I promise 
that you shall abide peacefully in the cave of the Rencluse 
to-morrow until we return to you with feathers in our 
caps. By the way, where is that same Rencluse ? Can 
we see it ? ” 

The guides indicated its position to her, beyond an 
intervening ravine. It could be reached in two hours or 
so, they said ; so that there was no hurry about resuming 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


61 

the march. The party, therefore, sat down to rest and to 
partake of the refreshment which they had earned. The 
afternoon was now far advanced, for the start from Luchon 
had not been effected until a much later hour than that 
originally fixed upon ; but although this delay had sub- 
jected them to the inconvenience of the midday sun, it 
did not compel them to hasten -towards the scene of their 
bivouac, which indeed was not reached until sunshine had 
given place to the sharp breath of the coming night. In 
the meantime Douglas Colborne had been granted no 
further opportunity for private discourse with the Countess, 
who did not seem inclined to talk, and who, when she 
had anything to say, had addressed her observations to 
Bickenbach. She had brought a tent with her, besides 
an abundant supply of rugs, quilts, pillows and other 
paraphernalia which provoked the subdued hilarity of her 
porters, and beneath this shelter she retired with the 
Baroness, after a fire of pine-logs had been lighted and the 
evening repast had been disposed of. 

“You and I,” observed Dr. Schott, with concentrated 
bitterness of intonation, “may now stretch ourselves out 
upon the hard rock, beside these very dirty and very 
badly smelling peasants, and go to sleep, if we can.” 

“We’ll get to windward of them,” answered Douglas, 
cheerfully. “I wish their persons were not quite so 
saturated with garlic, but that can’t be helped, and it's 
rather jolly sleeping out in the open air ; don’t you think 
so ? ” 

“ I do not,” growled the Doctor; “I do not think it 
jolly to sleep anywhere except in a bed, and, for my part, 
I do not expect to sleep at all — especially as I have 
already a most infernal toothache.” 

Douglas expressed sincere sympathy, and hastened to 
add that, under such trying circumstances, his companion 
ought not to think of attempting the ascent on the morrow ; 
but Dr. Schott only grunted and flung himself down upon 
the ground, with his feet towards the fire, after which he 
set to work to groan dismally at regular intervals. 

The groans of the Doctor and the thunderous snoring of 
the guides and porters might have sufficed to keep the 
young Englishman’s faculties in full working order even 
if he had been weary after his long walk, but he was not 
in the least so. He lay contentedly wrapped in the rug 
which he had brought with him, gazing up at the twink- 


62 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


ling stars and meditating upon his actual and prospective 
position. He was excited and happy, though, to be sure, 
he had no real reason for being either the one or the other. 
So far, he had, nevertheless, been tolerably successful. 
If the woman he loved, and who was now slumbering 
only a few yards away, had not encouraged him, she 
certainly had not done thereverse ; he was going to spend 
the whole of the next day with her under conditions which 
must needs render intimacy unavoidable ; Bickenbach was 
going to be left behind, and, since the Doctor's teeth were 
aching, there was good hope of his being left behind also. 
The most important of the many questions which sug- 
gested themselves to him seemed to be that of why the 
magnificent Siedenberg had been so summarily dismissed, 
and this was obviously a question which admitted of 
many answers. Answers of a most extravagant and de- 
lightful character invaded Douglas Colborne’s brain while 
he was hovering upon the borderland that separates 
waking from sleeping consciousness. 

He was roused at four o’clock by the head guide, who 
was shaking him unceremoniously, and who, when he 
had struggled into a sitting posture, impressed upon him 
that time was of value. The ladies, he said, were already 
awake and had a cup of coffee. Dieu merci! only one of 
them intended to undertake the ascent. In explanation of 
this ungallant ejaculation, he added that with women one 
could never tell what might happen, and that the weather 
was not to be depended upon. “It may change from 
one moment to another ; but, with luck, we shall reach 
the summit and return before the rain begins. Only it 
would have been better if we could have set off an hour 
ago. I did not wake you : what would have been the 
use when Madame la Comtesse insisted upon making her 
toilette as if she were going to listen to the music at 
Luchon ? ” 

It was but a hasty and scanty toilet that Douglas Col- 
borne was permitted to make, although, so far as he could 
judge, the weather was all that could be desired ; for the 
stars were still shining brightly and no clouds were visi- 
ble. He was joined almost immediately by the Countess, 
who was quite ready for a start, and who, to his great joy, 
prevailed upon — or, rather, ordered — Dr. Schott to re- 
main where he was and nurse his toothache. Every- 
thing had fallen out most fortunately : he could not help 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


6 3 

saying so as he took his place in the long line which was 
presently formed, and the low responsive laugh of his 
next neighbor did not fail to gladden his heart. 

The scaling of the Pic de Nethou is like the scaling of a 
hundred other peaks — that is to say that it can be accom- 
plished with perfect ease by experienced persons, while it 
is trying, tiring, and even dangerous to those who are in 
no condition for the achievement of such feats. The 
Countess Radna, who was a delicate woman and who did 
not know the meaning of a snow-slope, proyed herself to be 
possessed of courage as well as determination — otherwise 
she would infallibly have acknowledged herself beaten 
at the expiration of the first hour. As it was, she held 
out to the end, thereby earning some grudging words of 
praise from the chief guide and the unbounded admiration 
of Douglas Colborne, who perceived quite early during 
the ascent that she really had not strength enough for it, 
and did not hesitate to implore her to give the thing up. 

It was, however, past nine o’clock when the final arete 
— known as the Pont de Mahomet — by which the summit 
is reached had been successfully traversed, and the guides 
were unanimous in declaring that only a very brief halt 
could be safely indulged in. It would take a. good nine 
hours to get back to Luchon, they said ; besides which, 
there was certainly going to be a thunderstorm before 
long, and thunderstorms on the Maladetta were not always 
amusing. 

The Countess, however, vowed that neither guides nor 
weather nor any other consideration, person' or thing on 
earth should induce her to hurry herself. A glass of cham- 
pagne which Douglas had poured out for her had revived 
her spirits and partially overcome her exhaustion ; by a 
chance of rare occurrence at that altitude, there was no 
wind : and she found it very pleasant to rest upon a sun- 
warmed rock, to survey the glaciers, the snow-slopes, 
the innumerable peaks and valleys which stretched away 
around and beneath her, and to listen to the congratulations 
and compliments of her companion. 

“ We don’t want to be back at Luchon before bedtime/’ 
said she, “and if we do get caught in a thunderstorm, I 
daresay we shan’t be struck by lightning. Besides, after 
all the perils that we have been through, such a common- 
place one as that would be quite unworthy of our notice. 
Don’t you love risking your life? Little as I value mine, 


6 4 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


the most exhilarating sensation that I know of is placing 
it in danger ; and more than once to-day I have had the 
satisfaction of feeling that a single false step would have 
made an end of me — and of you, too, since we were roped 
together, wouldn’t it ? ” 

“ Very likely,” answered Douglas. “I didn't in the 
least enjoy the moments that you speak of, and I was 
very glad when they were over. I don’t mind risking my 
life, if I must ; but I can’t see the fun of risking it unnec- 
essarily. ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, what a true Englishman ! You are so phlegmatic, 
you islanders, that you don’t deserve half the credit you 
get for your sang-froid. You are born like that ; you 
could not be different if you tried. ” 

“ I suppose all nations are born with national charac- 
teristics, ” observed Douglas. ‘ ‘ I’m rather glad that swag- 
ger isn’t one of ours. Nevertheless, to show you that I 
have some romance in me, in spite of my British blood, 
I will confess that I would lay down my life for you at 
any moment, without hesitating, if you asked me for it. ” 

She stared at him for a moment and then laughed a little. 
“Ah!” she exclaimed, “if that were true! — but of 
course it isn’t ; though, no doubt, you think it is.” 

After this there was a longish period of silence, during 
which the Countess appeared to be absorbed in contem- 
plation of the view. Perhaps she was not looking at it ; 
but, if she had been, it would have deserved the homage 
of her silent admiration. There was scarcely a summit of 
the Pyrenean chain which was not visible, from the Pic 
des Posets, the Vignemale and the distant Mont Perdu, 
westwards, to the Canigou on the extreme east ; the 
Spanish mountains and plains were veiled by a dark mist 
which was gradually shaping itself into clouds ; but on 
the side of France the sky was serene and the atmosphere 
as clear as crystal. Everywhere the coloring had a soft, 
warm brilliancy unknown in Alpine regions. 

“I wish,” said Douglas, suddenly, “ that I might ask 
you something.” 

She started and turned her face towards him. ‘ ‘ You are 
permitted to ask,” she replied, “ and in all probability you 
will be answered. I have very little to conceal. ” 

“Then, will you tell me truly why you wouldn’t marry 
that Count Siedenberg ? ” 

“I have told you already; what I said yesterday was 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


6 5 

perfectly true. My husband, if ever I take one, will have 
to be my master, and it was plain that Count Siedenberg 
would not be that.” 

“ You speak as if love had nothing to say to the matter. 
He did love you, I presume ? ” 

“ Really, I had not the curiosity to make many inquiries 
upon the subject. Oh, yes, I daresay he loved me — as 
men love.” 

“ I don't quite know what you mean by that ; but I 
know how one man loves, and I can’t help fancying that 
you know too. Is it of the slightest use ? I came out 
here from England to ask whether it was of the slightest 
use, and you will have to give me an answer before I go 
back. Won’t you answer me now and have done with 
it?” 

The Countess raised her eyebrows. “You seem fo 
have profited by my hint,” she remarked; “but I didn’t 
say that I should fall in love with a man, or even marry 
him, simply because he was masterful ; I only meant to say 
that I shouldn’t do either the one or the other if he wasn’t. 
I believe I also told you in Paris, with the most brutal can- 
dor, that I didn’t love you.” 

“Immediately after which you mentioned that you 
would be at Bagneres de Luchon in August.” 

“ Do you know that that is rather an impertinent insinua- 
tion ? I am sure you don’t, or you wouldn’t have made 
it ; and I am sure you must forget that I am an unpro- 
tected woman on the top of a lonely mountain. Had we 
not better adjourn the debate instead of quarreling here, 
which would really be a shade too ridiculous, considering 
that we are bound to descend more or less hand in 
hand ? ” 

Douglas smiled and frowned. “I suppose I am very 
clumsy and matter-of-fact,” said he, after a pause, “ and I 
suppose I ought not to expect everything to be put in black 
and white for me. Still I should like to have my position 
made clear. What I understand is that you don’t love me, 
but that you don’t forbid me from trying to make you love 
me. Is that so ? ” 

“ How can I prevent your trying? ” returned the Coun- 
tess, composedly. ‘ ‘ If you fail, you will probably be 
angry and disappointed for a time ; if you succeed, you 
will, as I pointed out to you some months ago, get your- 
self into quite a maze of troubles. The situation is not 

5 


66 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


an agreeable one, but you will do me the justice to acknowl- 
edge that I am not responsible for it.” 

Whether she was entitled to claim exemption from re- 
sponsibility on that score may appear doubtful to the reader ; 
but it did not appear so to Douglas Colborne, who joyfully 
acquitted her and clutched at the straw of hope held ou + 
to him. What she was certainly responsible for was 
undue and unwise delay at a height of nearly twelve thou- 
sand feet above the sea, while a change of weather was 
threatening, and this the head guide, for one, was re- 
solved to tolerate no longer. 

“ Allons, en route !” said, he decisively and rather roughly. 
“If we reach the Rencluse before the storm bursts, we 
shall have better luck than we deserve — Test moi qui vous 
en reponds ! ” 

So the Countess raised her aching limbs with some 
difficulty, and presently the expedition set forth upon 
its downward march. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE RESULTS OF A THUNDERSTORM. 

To set out upon a forlorn hope and to discover that the 
hope is not, after all, an altogether forlorn one is, it must 
be allowed, a legitimate subject for rejoicing ; and Douglas 
Colborne, as he followed his leader across the knife-edge 
of the Pont de Mahomet, was an exultant man. The Coun- 
tess, who followed him, and to whom during the progress 
of the descent he kept on turning round with words of 
encouragement and proffered assistance, was a good deal 
less cheerful ; but the Countess was dead tired, and her 
thoughts were, for the time being, of a totally different 
nature from his. Most people are under the impression 
that it is less fatiguing to go down hill than up ; but that 
is because most people know very little about mountain- 
eering and are unacquainted with the agreeable sensation 
of having a broken back and a pair of broken knees. 

“This maybe a pleasure/’ the poor Countess Radna 
ejaculated, after she had for the third or fourth time called 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


67 

a halt in the midst of a half-melted snow-slope; “but it 
would be difficult to persuade me that any one can really 
enjoy it. For my own part, I have had 1 enough of it. I 
wanted to see what it was like, and now I know. For 
the future I shall be contented to sit in valleys and pity 
the deluded maniacs who insist upon scrambling: out of 
them. ” 

The unfortunate part of it was that she could not be 
permitted to stand still and bemoan herself. The guides 
were out of all patience, and Douglas himself, who had 
not at first been inclined to attach much importance to 
their prognostications, was compelled ere long to ac- 
knowledge that some atmospheric disturbance was at 
hand. As the day advanced the clouds gathered and the 
sky grew dark ; suddenly a furious gust of wind swept up 
the mountain-side, driving the snow before it and almost 
lifting the pedestrians off their feet ; a second and a third 
gust, each increasing in violence, succeeded it at inter- 
vals, and the shelter of the Rencluse was still far away. 
There was evidently nothing for it but to push on and 
turn a deaf ear to the entreaties of the exhausted lady. 

There was, however, no possibility of escaping the ap- 
proaching storm. What they did manage to accomplish, 
before the first flash of lightning half blinded them and 
the first clap of thunder rattled in their ears, was to reach 
an overhanging cornice of rock which could not, indeed, 
be said to afford much shelter, but which might preserve 
them from being buried alive in the tourmente which was 
certain to ensue. Such, at least, was the opinion ex- 
pressed by the chief guide, who, remarking that it would 
be madness to proceed any farther, made the Countess 
station herself with her back against the rock, but could 
not induce her to join him in swallowing a glass of raw 
brandy. 

“As you please, madam,” said he. “You will be glad 
of it in another quarter of an hour — that is if we are any 
of us alive in another quarter of an hour. ” 

Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the tem- 
pest which he had foreseen broke forth and rendered any 
other words that may have been uttered inaudible. Ex- 
actly what happened neither Douglas Colborne nor the 
Countess Radna could ever afterwards describe. They 
could remember nothing except the howling and shriek- 
ing of the wind, the deafening concussions of successive 


68 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


thunderclaps, the darkness of the air, which seemed sud- 
denly to have been converted into a dense cloud of swirl- 
ing snow, and a Sensation of deadly cold. Probably the 
worst was over when one of the porters was heard to 
scream out in an agonized voice, “ Nous sommes perdus ! ” 
Probably also he had made the same hasty assertion half 
a dozen times already without attracting the attention of 
his neighbors. But now both Douglas and the Coun- 
tess caught his words ; and somehow or other, it had 
come to pass that at that moment Douglas’s right arm 
was tightly clasping the Countess’s waist. 

‘‘Is it true?” she gasped. “Is it true that we must 
die ? ” 

He honestly believed that it was. The storm did not 
seem to him to show any sign of abating ; he was more 
than half buried in the drifting snow ; he had, of course, 
no thought of abandoning his helpless companion to her 
fate, nor could he feel the slightest hope of extricating 
her alive from so desperate a plight. Therefore he 
prepared himself, and endeavored to prepare her, for 
what he deemed to be inevitable. 

She behaved very well. She was frightened, but she 
was not cowardly ; she retained full possession of her 
senses, and, at the pass to which she and he were reduced, 
she saw no reason to refuse him the avowal for which he 
pleaded. “Yes,” she said; “I love you, and it was 
because I loved you that I could not make myself marry 
that man. Perhaps, if we had been going to live, I 
might have told you so some day, though I don’t think I 
should have told you ; but it doesn’t matter now. What 
will happen? Shall we just fall asleep, or shall we 
struggle ? I don’t feel as if I should struggle.” 

Many men and women fancy that death, under certain 
given circumstances, would be blissful. It is impossible 
to say whether they are mistaken or not, because the 
dead are, most unfortunately, debarred from communicat- 
ing their experiences to us ; but what is beyond all dispute 
is that an anticlimax is a very humiliating and provoking 
thing. Possibly the Countess Radna may have been 
provoked and humiliated^ when the thunderstorm rolled 
away eastwards, leaving a clear blue sky in its wake, 
and when she was assured that nothing more terrible lay 
before her than a wearisome descent through masses of 
freshly-fellsR snow ; but it i§ more likely that sh§ ^ras tpo 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


69 

fatigued to concentrate her thoughts upon any subject 
outside that of her fatigue. At all events, she plodded 
forward mechanically, in obedience to instructions, and 
nothing but monosyllables passed her lips until the safe 
haven of the Rencluse was once more reached. As for 
Douglas, he did feel that he owed her an apology ; 
yet, pardonably enough, that did not prevent him from 
feeling triumphant and jubilant. She loved him, and 
she had confessed that she loved him : what more could 
he ask ? He was so modest as to ask her for nothing 
more just then, and so considerate as to turn his back 
and move away while she was being enfolded in the 
tearful embrace of the terrified Bickenbach. 

Dr. Schott, whose alarm had been fully equal to that 
of the Baroness, and who was naturally indignant, now 
that his anxiety was allayed, joined the young Englishman 
and proceeded to rate that blameless individual roundly. 

“It is fortunate for you, sir,” said he, “that you have 
escaped with your life. It would have been very un- 
fortunate for you, let me tell you, if you had escaped with 
your life and if the Countess Radna had perished. You 
may congratulate yourself that your folly and imprudence 
have had no worse consequences, so far. ” 

Douglas was in too seraphic a mood to quarrel with 
any blustering German doctor. “I assure you,” he 
answered, laughing, “that I am quite as thankful 'to 
Heaven as I ought to be for having preserved all our lives. 
I didn't order a thunderstorm, you know, and, for the 
matter of that, it wasn’t I who planned this ascent. How- 
ever, as things have turned out, there’s no occasion to 
scold anybody. All’s well that ends well.” 

‘ c Who tells you that we have reached the end ? ” growled 
the irate Doctor. "We haven’t even reached Luchon 
yet, and, as far as I can understand, there is great doubt 
whether we shall be able to cross that vile pass again 
before night. One thing I will venture to answer, for 
and that is that the Countess will not recover from what 
she has gone through without recovering from an illness. 
You do not know what it is to be a delicate woman with a 
delicate chest and to have your constitution subjected to 
strains which it will not bear. Which it will not bear,” 
repeated Dr. Schott emphatically and fiercely, while he 
thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers 
podde4 at his interlocutor, 


70 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Although Douglas Colborne could not admit that he 
was in any way answerable for the infirmities of the 
Countess Radna’s constitution, he was greatly concerned 
at hearing so despohdent a forecast from a competent 
authority, and it did not occur to him that the Doctor 
might have other reasons for being surly and out of temper 
than those which had been mentioned. 

“You don't really think that she has caught a chill, do 
you?’’ he asked, anxiously. “She must be dreadfully 
tired, of course ; but she will be none the worse for that 
after a night’s rest, I hope. ” 

“You talk at your ease about a night's rest ! It is in 
your power, no doubt, to obtain a night’s rest by merely 
wrapping yourself in a blanket and lying down upon 
the wet ground ; but it is not in her power to do such 
things. I cannot tell you whether she has caught a chill 
or not ; I can only tell you that it will be very wonderful 
if she has not, and that she quite certainly will catch one 
unless she can be taken to the Chalet des Rosiers this 
evening.” 

That being so, it obviously became a matter of primary 
importance to a practical man that the Countess Radna 
should be transported to the desired spot by the desired 
time, and of this task Douglas Colborne did eventually ac- 
quit himself, though he had some trouble about it. The 
Countess, when she was urged to mount the mule that was 
waiting for her, declared at first that she was incapable 
of stirring hand or foot, and really did appear unfit to start 
upon a long ride ; while the guides, as well as the Baro- 
ness Bickenbach, pronounced themselves in favor of a rest 
and a second al fresco night. But Mr. Colborne had a 
strong will of his own, which he now thought proper to 
exercise ; so that he ended by carrying his point. It was, 
however, a long business, and he had to submit to many 
reproaches and remonstrances, both tacit and outspoken, 
before nightfall, when he had the gratification of landing 
his charges safely at the Hospice de Luchon. There the 
carriage which the Countess had ordered to be in attend- 
dance was awaiting her ; the four horses were harnessed 
with as little delay as possible, and away she drove with 
her two companions, after taking a brief and unceremoni- 
ous leave of the young Englishman, to whom it apparently 
did not occur to her to offer a lift. 

She had, indeed, scarcely spoken to him or looked at 


I 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


7 1 


him since their departure from the Rencluse. She had 
seemed to be half-stupefied by sheer weariness, and he had 
been unwilling to disturb or annoy her by anything be- 
yond an encouraging word or two from time to time. He 
was not in the least offended by the persistent manner in 
which she had ignored his proximity ; he had understood 
that she required a little time to recover herself ; he was 
thankful that she had now the prospect of a good night's 
rest in a comfortable bed, and he set forth quite content- 
edly, with the guides and porters, to trudge six miles into 
Luchon in the dark. 

‘ ‘ Ce que cest que les femmes ! ” growled the head-guide, as 
they plodded along the road. “ That lady was within a 
very little of killing us all this morning ; but she says 
nothing about extra pay. As for me, it is not a hundred, 
no, nor five hundred francs that would tempt me to embar- 
rass myself with her upon the snow a second time ! ” 

But this worthy man and his subordinates obtained a 
handsome addition to their daily pay out of the pocket of 
Mr. Douglas Colborne, who was of opinion that the day’s 
experiences had been worth very much more than that to 
him. 

It is needless to say that he was at the Chalet des Ro- 
siers at the earliest permissible hour on the morrow, and it 
is almost equally needless to add that he was not admitted 
into the presence of the temporary mistress of that charm- 
ing dwelling; He was received by the Baroness von 
Bickenbach, who informed him that the Countess was far 
too unwell to see him ; but admitted, somewhat reluctantly, 
that her illness was not serious. Dr. Schott thought 
that she might be able to come downstairs in the after- 
noon, and hoped that the evil consequences which he had 
at first apprehended might now be averted, with great 
care. "‘Only, dear sir, there must be no more of this 
climbing up mountains ; it is too dangerous and too ex- 
hausting. You yourself must perceive that.” 

“ I will promise you that there shall be no^more of it,” 
answered Douglas, not caring to defend himself against 
an implied accusation which everybody seemed determined 
to fasten upon him, notwithstanding his innocence. “I 
will call again in the course of the afternoon, then.” 

Bickenbach, who evidently had not been taken into the 
confidence of her employer, begged him not to give him- 
self that trouble and assured him that he would not be 


7 2 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


admitted into the house if he did ; but he was of a different 
opinion, and it turned out that he was right. Whether 
the Countess guessed that he meant to see her, and that 
he generally contrived to do the things which he really 
meant to do, or whether she herself was anxious to have 
done with an inevitable interview may be doubtful ; but 
certain it is that, when he presented himself at her door 
later in the day, he was at once ushered into the drawing- 
room, where he found her alone, lying upon a sofa and 
arrayed in an elaborate and costly tea-gown. She held 
out her hand to him, saying quickly : 

“ Yesterday is rubbed out of our lives, is it not? We 
start again where we were before all those horrors happened 
and scared us out of our senses.” 

He took her hand and knelt down beside her, laughing. 
“What do you call horrors? ” he asked. “ I was not at 
all horrified at being told that you loved me, Helene, and 
neither you nor I nor anybody else in the world can ever 
rub the memory of that moment out of my life, you may 
be sure.” 

“That is nonsense,” she returned, swinging her feet off 
the sofa with a swift movement and assuming a sit- 
ting posture; “it is ungenerous, too. You know very 
well that, when I told you that, I thought I was at the 
point of death. Now I am alive, which changes every- 
thing. ” 

“It may change your intentions; it can't possibly 
change the fact that you love me,” responded Douglas, 
composedly; “and now that I know that, it will be a 
hard matter to make me relinquish you.” 

She was impressed by his quiet determination, which all 
her arguments and all the feminine ingenuity which she 
employed in endeavoring to convict him of lack of chivalry 
did not avail to shake for one moment. She could not 
deny her love, she could not persuade him that, for his 
own sake, he would be better advised to bid her farewell 
and go away, and when he asked her whether she wished 
to dismiss him because his social position was inferior to 
hers, she was unable to accuse herself of such ignoble 
motives. 

“ Then,” he concluded, calmly but triumphantly, “there 
is no more to be said. We shall be man and wife ; we 
shall be as happy together as two people ever were, and 
we shall certainly not allow our happiness to be interfered 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 73 

with by mere differences of rank, or wealth, or nationality, 
or religion.” 

“Ah ! ” she sighed, “ I don't know whether you will be 
happy, although you are choosing your lot for yourself 
with your eyes open. I shall be happy, I think ; because, 
oddly enough, it seems to me that I have found my master 
at last. I am very tired, do you know, of ordering my 
fellow-mortals about, right and left, and seeing them run. 
But I warn you that we shall have some quarrels ; it isn't 
in a moment that one shakes off the habits of a lifetime.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

GARDENING AND PHILOSOPHY. 

Miss Margaret Rowley, like the majority of wealthy 
and unemployed people, had always an immensity of work 
on hand, and could seldom manage to get through half of 
her self-imposed jobs in the course of the day. She was 
in the habit of asserting that if only she had time to look 
after things herself she would have the very best garden 
in England : but this opinion was not shared by her head- 
gardener, Mr. Peter Chervil, who naturally did not like to 
tell her that her interference was usually, if not invariably, 
productive of disastrous consequences. Peter Chervil, 
being an ancient retainer, and having little fear of digni- 
taries before his eyes, was not in the least disposed to sub- 
mit to instructions respecting his own business from one 
whom he still looked upon as a mere child ; so that he and 
his mistress seldom met without a more or less amicable 
interchange of home-truths. 

One fine afternoon in the month of August they met, 
and, in accordance with precedent, lost no time in flying 
at one another’s throats. Peggy, who, for a wonder, had 
nobody staying with her, and had resolved to devote a 
good two hours to gardening, had arrayed herself in a short 
skirt, had armed herself with a spud and had sallied forth, 
fully determined upon obtaining replies to several very 
important questions. First, why were there no eucharis 
jjljgs } Secondly, how was it that, after all the money 


74 


THE COUNTESS KADNA . 


-which she had expended upon begonias during the last two 
years, everybody in the neighborhood could beat her with 
them ? Thirdly, would Peter be good enough to explain 
any particular reason that he might have for allowing two 
of the greenhouses to be simply devastated by green fly ? 
She had other minor matters to inquire into, but these were 
the chief, and she felt that her case as it stood was a toler- 
ably strong one. 

The tall, thin, gray-bearded individual whom she ran to 
earth in the potting-shed, and at whose head she hastened 
to hurl the principal counts of her indictment, drew his 
hand several times across his unshaven upper lip before he 
made any response. 

“ Euch’ris lilies?” said he at length, with a smile of 
pitying wonder. ‘'Did you think as you was goin’ to 
have ’em all the year round then, miss ? ” 

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” answered Miss Rowley, 
boldly. 

“No; that’s what you’d expect, I make no doubt. 
Same with begonias, I dessay. Same with pretty well 
everything. Ah ! it ain’t much as you knows about gar- 
denin’, Miss Peggy. ” 

“ I know what my garden costs me, at all events,” the 
lady declared. 

“ Do you, now ? I shouldn’t ha’ thought as you’d have 
found out as much as that. Not but what it costs a deal 
more nor it ought, and so I’ve told you many and many’s 
the time ; on’y ’tain’t no manner o’ good for me to speak. 
Well, you’ll larn somethin’ as you grow older, maybe. 
Don’t come blowin’ of me up because I ain’t the Creator 
of this world, and can’t play miracles with it ; that’s all.” 

“Anyhow, I don’t expect anything so miraculous as 
reasonable civility from you, Peter ; one doesn’t expect a 
bigoted Radical to be either reasonable or civil.” 

The lines of Mr. Chervil’s weather-beaten visage relaxed. 
A change of subject was not unwelcome to him, because 
the fact was that he had had a little misfortune with those 
begonias, and he did not wish to talk about it. It is best 
to pass over little misfortunes of that description in silence, 
especially when you have to deal with women, who never 
can be made to understand them. So he said : 

“Now, look ’ee here, Miss Peggy : what I always says 
is, ‘Business is business, and politics is politics.’ My 
business I know, and don't want no man, nor yet no lady, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


75 


for to p’int it out to me. Politics is, as you may say, a 
sealed book to me. Consequently, when parties comes 
askin’ me for my vote, I’ve got to take the word of one or 
other of ’em as ’twon’t be misused. Very well ; I takes 
the word of Mr. Gladstone, him bein’, by my way of 
thinkin’, the people’s friend.” 

“ That only shows how utterly unfit you are to exercise 
the franchise. However, you may perhaps be prevented 
from ruining yourself and your country, and although you 
are a very ignorant and obstinate man, you can’t refuse to 
recognize plain facts when they are placed before your 
eyes. Of course, you have never taken the trouble to 
discover for yourself what Home Rule would mean, if 
such an iniquitous measure were ever carried.” 

“I have not, miss. Have you, if I may make so bold 
as to ask ? ” 

“Yes ; and I can make the whole question clear to you 
in less than a quarter of an hour. ” 

This was a tolerably audacious undertaking ; but it was 
not through any lack of audacity, or even of convincing 
logic, that it resulted in ignominious failure. Peter 
Chervil listened patiently to his mistress’s concise summing- 
up of a difficult problem, and, when she had made an 
end of speaking, merely remarked : 

“Well, miss, ’ tis not for me to contradict my betters, 
and all you say may be quite correct. Sim’larly, it may 
not. There’s a many folks, with and without Right 
Honorable to their names, as don’t hold with you, you 
see ; and how- is a poor uneddicated gardener to judge 
between you ? Now, if ’twas a question of euch’ris lilies 
or begonias, I should know where I was. But I can’t 
reely promise for to give my vote to young Mr. Colborne, 
miss, though he’s a nice young gentlemen and a friend 
o’ yourn.” 

“ If he were a nasty young gentleman and an enemy 
of mine you would vote for him, I have no doubt. I 
have a great mind to turn Radical myself, because then 
you would certainly- support the Tory candidate, and very 
likely you would lead the whole flock of other geese after 
you. — I am not at home.” 

This last assertion was thrown at the butler, who was 
now seen approaching along the gravel path with a fell 
intent which there was no mistaking. 

“So I told Mrs. Colborne, miss,” answered that func- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


76 

tionary respectfully ; “ but she said she had seen you in the 
garden as she drove up, and she would wait until you came 
in.” 

Miss Rowley sighed impatiently. “You ought to have 
told her that she couldn’t have seen me,” she returned. 
“Well, I suppose I must go. I had several things to say 
to you about the garden, Peter, when you interrupted me 
by beginning to talk treason and sedition ; but I shall be 
out again presently, so don’t go away, please.” 

It has already been intimated that Peggy Rowley was 
a person for whom Mrs. Colborne cherished sentiments of 
the warmest affection, and these were to a great extent 
reciprocated. Still, one does not quite like even one’s most 
intimate friends to force their way into the house when 
one is not at home ; so that Miss Rowley’s face, as she 
entered the drawing-room and greeted her visitor, wore a 
distinctly interrogative expression. 

Mrs. Colborne jumped up, seized her by both hands, 
and kissed her on both cheeks. If Mrs. Colborne’s manner, 
which was really a very perfect manner of its kind, had a 
fault, that fault may have been that it was a shade too 
effusive. 

“My dear,” she began, “ I know I am inexcusable ; you 
didn’t want to be bothered with me, and I have forced 
you to be bothered with me. Strike, but hear me. I have 
had a letter from Douglas which has startled me out of my 
seven senses, and I couldn’t for the life of me have gone 
home without having told you about it. ” 

Miss Rowley took a -chair, and observed : .“He is going 
to be married to some fascinating foreigner, I suppose. 

I expected as much.” 

“How extraordinary of you to have expected it!” 
exclaimed the elder lady admiringly. “But then you are 
so wonderfully clever. For my own part, I was no more 
prepared to hear of such a thing than I was to hear of 
his having lost his heart to a barmaid. All his life he 
has been such a good, steady fellow, and has never given 
me a moment of anxiety.” 

A closer observer than Mrs. Colborne might have 
detected a slight diminution of the healthy color which 
graced Miss Rowley’s open countenance ; but it was in 
an absolutely steady and unconcerned voice that the latter 
inquired: “Are there barmaids in France? and does he 
propose to espouse one of them ? I hope not, because if 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


77 

he does we shall assuredly lose the seat at the next elec- 
tion/’ 

“ Oh, dear, no ! ” replied Mrs. Colborne ; “ it isn’t so bad 
as that. The lady is the only living representative of a 
very old family, and is enormously rich, he tells me. 
She is a certain Countess Radna, a Hungarian heiress, 
whom he met in Paris last spring. From some points of 
view it may be considered a great match for him, though it 
is hardly what I should have chosen.” 

“Men have a way ot choosing for themselves,” re- 
marked Miss Rowley, “and men who are worth their 
salt always do so. I don’t see that you have much to com- 
plain of, especially as the woman is rich. The good old 
days of bribery an-d corruption are at end ; still it does a 
candidate no sort of harm to be provided with a rich wife. 
Free and independent as the electors are, they naturally 
feel some prejudice in favor of a man who has plenty of 
money, and is likely to spend it in the county. Please 
give my warmest congratulations to Douglas when you 
write. ” 

Mrs. Colborne looked relieved, and indeed felt so. She 
had been almost certain that her son intended to propose 
to Peggy Rowley, and almost certain that his offer would 
be accepted ; but, since she had been mistaken in her 
premises, it seemed possible that she might also have been 
mistaken in her conclusions. So much the better ; for it 
would have been a very sad thing if this unexpected be- 
havior on Douglas’s part had brought about a breach of 
the friendly relations which had so long subsisted between 
Stoke Leighton and Swinford Manor. 

“ I was afraid you wouldn’t like it,” she confessed half 
involuntarily. 

“ I ? Why on earth should I dislike it? It is no busi- 
ness of mine, so long as it doesn't endanger the election ; 
and it evidently won’t have that effect. ” 

“Oh, but you are a friend of mine — and of his,” pleaded 
Mrs. Colborne, reproachfully; “his marriage must, I am 
sure, interest you a little bit more than the marriage of 
any Tom, Dick or Harry whom the Carlton might have 
sent down here to stand as Mr. Majendie’s successor.” 
She added, with a sigh, “I don’t think / quite like it. 
Money isn’t everything, and this Countess Radna, by his 
account of her, is an odd sort of person. He says she is 
a freethinker and that she doesn’t care about being mar- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


78 

ried in church, though she will consent to a religious cere- 
mony if he insists upon it — as of course he will. That 
doesn’t sound promising, does it ? ” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Miss Rowley ; “ it 
depends upon what sort of promises you are anxious to 
exact. She is a genuine Countess and has a genuine for- 
tune, I presume ? ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes ; she is in the Almanacli de Gotha ; these Radna 
'people appear to have been semi-royalties for generations 
past, like the Princess de Ligne,” replied Mrs. Colborne 
with a touch of maternal pride. “Still one doesn’t ex- 
actly like her being a sceptic.” 

“One doesn’t exactly like a great many things which 
one is compelled by the force of circumstances to lump, ” 
observed Miss Rowley. “I was explaining to my gar- 
dener when you arrived, that I didn’t exactly like having 
no begonias worth mentioning, and he was giving me to 
understand that nothing prevented me from availing my- 
self of the customary alternative. If I were you, I should 
swallow the Countess Radna’s scepticism with a good 
grace and write a kind letter of congratulation to Douglas. 
You may depend upon it that he will take his own way, 
and he will probably be grateful to you if you abstain from 
making his way rough for him. ” 

Mrs. Colborne could not but feel that this was good 
advice. It was satisfactory also that it should come from 
a quarter whence criticism of a less friendly and matter-of- 
course description might have been anticipated. She de- 
termined to act in accordance with it, and, after another 
quarter of an hour's conversation and & cup of tea, took 
her departure, obviously — perhaps even a trifle too ob- 
viously — contented with the outcome of her visit. 

After she had gone, Peggy Rowley sat for a while be- 
side the tea-table, frowning meditatively at space. At 
length she rose, stepped out into the garden through the 
open window and headed once more for the potting-shed. 
But apparently she had forgotten the instructions which 
she had intended giving to her head-gardener, for when 
she found him busily engaged in the operation of shifting 
a long row of stove-plants into larger pots, all she had to 
say to him was : 

“Well, Peter, I have just heard something which may 
cause you to reconsider your resolution as to the next 
election. Mr. Colborne is going to be married to a lady 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


79 

who has plenty of money, and who will probably spend 
her money in this neighborhood if her husband is elected. 
That makes a difference, doesn’t it ? ” 

“Not to me, miss, ’ answered the old man, with a swift 
side-glance at his mistress ; “her money won’t come my 
way, I’m afeard. Shouldn’t wonder if ’twas to make a 
difference to others, though. Marriage as you approve 
of, miss — if I might make so bold as to ask ? ” 

“Between ourselves, I don’t altogether approve of it, 
Peter; because the lady is not an Englishwoman, and I 
think it would have been better for Mr. Colborne to marry 
an English heiress. Still, since she is an heiress, he can’t 
be said to have done badly — and he has a right to please 
himself.” 

“Right or on right, ’tis what they mostly in general 
does, miss,” observed Mr. Chervil, philosophically. “Men 
and plants, ’tis all as one — the young ’uns can’t tell what’s 
good for ’em, nor yet won’t do what they are wanted to 
do, for all the care you can give ’em. Natur’, you see, 
miss — that’s where ’tis — Natur’ won’t be controlled. 1 
shan’t vote for ’un — no, nor shouldn’t, not if he was goin’ 
to marry the Queen of Sheba in all her glory ; but, Lord 
bless your heart, that don’t make no odds ! The man as 
you back, he’ll get the seat, miss ; we all knows that well 
enough. And I suppose you’ll go on backin’ Mr. Colborne, 
though you don’t hold with furriners ? ” 

“I shall certainly back him as long as he continues to 
represent Conservatism in this division,” Miss Rowley de- 
clared. “I might perhaps draw the line at being repre- 
sented in Parliament by an alien ; but aliens, I am happy 
to say, generally attach themselves to your party. Mr. 
Colborne remains an Englishman, and what does it matter 
to me whether he selects his wife from France or Ger- 
many or Hindostan ? ” 

“Nothin’ at all, miss,” responded Peter with alacrity 
and emphasis ; “and so I’ve always said. ‘Colbornes,’ 
says I ; ‘ well, come to that, there was Rowleys in these 
parts long afore Colbornes was heard of ; and, as for com- 
parin’ this here property with Stoke Leighton, w r hy, ’tis 
sheer nonsense and foolishness for to talk so,’ I says. 
‘Our Miss Peggy,’ I says, ‘she don’t need to go to 
Stoke Leighton for to find her match,’ I says.” 

Miss Rowley’s laughter was not free from a tinge of 
embarrassment. “I suppose,” she remarked, “that, 


8o 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


when you and your friends fuddle yourselves together at 
the alehouses, you are in the habit of discussing me freely. 
I don’t in the least mind your doing so ; only you might, 
in the interests of truth, mention at the next merry meet- 
ing that I have contemplated marrying Mr. Colborne quite 
as little as he has ever contemplated marrying me.” 

She turned away as she spoke, and was thus spared 
from seeing the incredulous and compassionate smile with 
which her assertion was received. 


CHAPTER X. 

AN ACCOMPLISHED FACT. 

“I don’t see the use of grumbling at him, Loo,” said 
Phyllis Colborne to her elder sister, in whose company 
she was drinking tea beneath the shade of a copper-beech 
one fine afternoon in September. “We should all have 
been better pleased if he had been accommodating enough 
to fall in love with Peg Rowley, and he knows that just 
as well as you do ; but the difference between us and men 
is that we can't choose and that they can. After all, he 
might have made a very much worse choice. He is going 
to marry money — which, I suppose, was pretty much 
what it was required of him to do, wasn’t it ? ” 

‘ ‘ Peggy has money ehough for anything and anybody, ” 
sighed Loo. “ I am not grumbling at him — of course 
there is no excuse for grumbling, since this German 
woman is so rich — but I am disappointed. And the worst 
of it is, that I am afraid Peggy is disappointed too. ” 

“ I shouldn't advise you to say that in her hearing,” 
remarked Phyllis. “Perhaps you might as well refrain 
from saying or hinting at it in his hearing either, because 
he wouldn’t like it, and it certainly wouldn’t do any good. 
Is that the dog-cart ? Yes, there he is, sure enough ! Now 
Loo, let me implore you to behave like a reasonable being 
and look pleased, if you can’t manage to look overjoyed. 
We don’t want this marriage to bring about any coldness 
between us and Peg Rojvley, remember.” 

A few seconds later the head of the family, who had just 
arrived from the South of France, was embracing his 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


8t 


sisters. He wore a slightly sheepish expression of coun- 
tenance — perhaps an elder brother who has engaged him- 
self to be married must always and inevitably appear 
slightly sheepish on the occasion of his first encounter 
with his dispossessed relatives — but the letters which had 
reached him had been reassuring in tone, and he was sus- 
tained by a strong inward conviction that his right to 
please himself in the matter of matrimony was beyond 
dispute. It was not disputed, even by implication. He 
understood exactly how the girls must feel about it, and 
did not expect them to be as enthusiastic as they might 
have been had his choice fallen upon an English lady of 
good birth and ample means ; possibly he may have had 
some- comprehension, also, of the meaning of Loo’s watery 
smiles, and may not have altogether resented them. Loo 
was sentimental and imaginative ; Loo was pretty certain 
to end by falling at the feet of the Countess Radna and 
worshipping her ; but there might have been some trouble 
with Phyllis, who had decided notions of her own ; so it 
was gratifying to find that Phyllis had nothing Unpleasant 
to say. 

He had brought a photograph of the Countess with him, 
whicli he exhibited, listening complacently to the admir- 
ing criticisms which were its due ; then he mentioned that 
the wedding was to take place in Paris some time in 
November ; then he had a cup of tea, and then he went 
into the house to see his mother, who, as he was told, was 
in the morning-room, writing letters. 

Mrs. Colborne was almost always writing letters ; yet, 
under ordinary circumstances, she would have desisted from 
her occupation for a short time to welcome her son on his 
return, and he was so well aware of this that, after he had 
joined her and had been affectionately kissed by her, he 
said : 

“You don’t like it, do you, mother? You wrote as 
prettily as possible ; but I could see that you didn’t like it, 
though I am thankful to say that Helene was not sharp 
enough to detect that. ” 

“I am very glad that she wasn’t; I wouldn’t for the 
world have conveyed to her the impression that I was dis- 
satisfied in any way. Still, I won’t tell a fib about it to 
you, my dear boy, and I must confess that there do seem 
to me to be drawbacks. That civil marriage, for instance. 
You will acknowledge that it is rather objectionable.” 


82 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


“Oh; that will be all right ; she is quite willing to be 
married in an English church if we wish it. Only, of 
course, it would have been absurd to conform to the rites 
of the Roman Church, to which neither she nor I belong. 

I suppose what you really dislike is that she is a foreigner, 
and that we shan’t be able to help spending part of our 
lives abroad in future. I don’t in the least wonder at your 
disliking that; I daresay that, if I had a grown-up son, I 
shouldn’t exactly covet such an alliance for him. Still, it 
is a magnificent alliance — if that is any consolation. More- 
over, it is one of those things which have to be accepted 
and made the best of, as being to all intents and purposes 
accomplished facts.” 

Mrs. Colborne glanced at her son’s quiet, good-humored, 
resolute face, andjlaughed. She resembled the Countess 
Radna, and indeed the majority of her sex, in rather enjoy- 
ing the sensation of having a master. 

“A fact is accomplished when it is accomplished, and 
not until then, ” she returned. ‘ ‘ But the engagement won't 
be broken off by you, I see ; and if you are contented, so 
am I. After all, what more can I wish for than that my 
children should be contented and — and prosperous? It is 
rather sudden, though. I should have been glad if you 
had allowed yourself a little longer time for consideration, 
and possible repentance.” 

Young as Douglas Colborne was, he was old enough to 
know that nobody ever repents of an accomplished fact 
before it has been accomplished. He did not, however, 
say this in reply ; nor did he see any necessity for telling 
his mother that the news of the projected match had been 
received with much less resignation in Austria than it had 
been in England. There had, in fact, been a good deal of 
trouble and a vast deal of correspondence ; for the Countess 
had relatives and friends who could not be prevented from 
saying what they thought, although she could not be pre- 
vented from doing what she pleased. But these small and 
inevitable miseries were no more worth bothering about 
than the acrimonious remarks and warning prophecies of 
Dr. Schott. The Countess had certainly bothered herself 
a little ; still, opposition had not served to shake her pur- 
pose ; she had snubbed all her correspondents, she had 
quarreled with a few of them, and she had promised to 
pension off her unamiable medical attendant. She was 
now on her way to her native land, where her presence 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


83 


seemed to be absolutely requisite for a time, and in the 
month of November she and her fiance were to meet again 
in Paris, there to be joined together for better or for worse 
until death should part them. 

Meanwhile, Douglas also had his arrangements to make, 
and very grateful he was to his mother and sisters for the 
readiness with which they acquiesced in the plans which 
he suggested for their future mode of life. He was, of 
course, going to be a very rich man — or at least to live 
like one — but it was just as much a matter of course that 
his wife’s fortune must remain her own, and that he would, 
therefore, be able to do no more for his family than he 
could have done in the event of his being about to espouse 
a pauper. He had not been quite sure that Mrs. Colborne 
and the girls would recognize this, so that he was both 
thankful and relieved to find them perfectly reasonable. 
South Kensington was their obvious destiny and destina- 
tion; they saw that quite as plainly as he did ; they betook 
themselves without complaint and without delay to that 
task of house-hunting which is one of the most dishearten- 
ing of all earthly labors, and it was only Loo who presumed 
to express a hope that they might occasionally be per- 
mitted to run down to the old place for a week or two — 
“ when you and your Countess are away, you know, as I 
suppose you often will be.” 

“You pay me and my Countess a poor compliment,” 
Douglas answered ; “ we should like you to come and stay 
here when we are at home, if you don’t mind.” 

He spoke with complete sincerity, although he knew that 
there was little probability of his being taken at his word, 
and he resented neither Loo’s half-smothered sigh nor her 
indiscreet rejoinder. “Oh, I daresay we shall pay you 
short, formal visits every now and then,” she said ; “ but 
we couldn’t think of proposing ourselves, or of taking any 
other liberty with this grand lady whom we have never 
seen. If it had been somebody whom we already knew ; 
if it had been Peggy Rowley, for instance — but it isn’t 
Peggy Rowley, worse luck ! ” 

To have had Peggy Rowley as her sister-in-law, instead 
of the Countess Radna, would, no doubt, have been better 
luck for Loo, and Douglas, being conscious of that, was 
patient. For the rest, his patience was not severely tried. 
In due course of time a house was discovered in Elvaston 
Place, which was pronounced suitable by Mrs, Colborne, 


84 


THE COUNTESS R ABACI. 


and after that, she and her daughters were too busy col- 
lecting furniture and preparing for their move to trouble 
the head of the family much. 

Thus the days and weeks passed swiftly away, and what 
with making the house ready to receive his bride, ingrati- 
ating himself with his future constituents and snatching an 
occasional spare day for a game of cricket, Douglas had 
his hands tolerably full. The letters which reached him 
from abroad were upon the whole satisfactory ; his friends 
were hearty in their congratulations ; the only thing he 
regretted was that one of his best friends, Miss Rowley, 
was absent from home all this time. He would have liked 
to see Peggy and bespeak her goodwill on behalf of the 
Countess Radna, for he suspected that there was nobody 
in the neighborhood of Stoke Leighton, except Peggy, 
whom the Countess would be at all likely to find a con- 
genial companion. It did not, however, seem over-pre- 
sumptuous to count in advance upon the goodwill of one 
to whose kindly interest in himself and his prospects every 
voter in the vicinity was ready to testify. 

During this same period of time the Countess Radna had 
been engaged in a prolonged battle for independence from 
which she had not emerged wholly un wounded. She had, 
of course, been technically victorious, because her legal 
independence was already established ; but the price of 
her victory had been a downright rupture with several of 
her highly-placed relatives, besides certain passages of 
arms in which she had been disagreeably aware of play- 
ing a more or less ridiculous part. She hated to be laughed 
at, and hated herself for caring whether people laughed at 
her or not ; so that when at length she started for Paris, 
shaking off the dust of her Fatherland from her feet, she 
was by no means as happy as she pretended to be. She 
loved Douglas Colborne and was willing to sacrifice every- 
thing for his sake ; still she could not but be conscious 
that she was sacrificing a great deal. Expatriation, which 
she had voluntarily incurred ever since she had been her 
own mistress as a thing desirable in itself, assumed quite 
another aspect from the moment that she realized how 
impossible it would be for her to reside even for a short 
time in Vienna after her marriage : her marriage also must 
needs deprive her of all the prestige which she had pre- 
viously enjoyed, save that belonging to wealth. She had 
been a prominent and interesting figure in Europe; she 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


85 

was going to be nothing, except the very rich wife of an 
unknown English country gentleman. Europe would soon 
forget her, and the homage of London — if, indeed, she 
should obtain that — could hardly be accepted as a suffi- 
cient compensation. She regretted nothing, only she .felt 
that sufficient compensation of some kind was her due; 
and she went near to saying as much when the month of 
November brought her and her lover together once more 
in the Avenue Friedland. 

But Douglas only laughed, as soon as he understood 
the drift of her remarks. ‘ ‘ Do you remember warning me 
at Luchon that we should have some quarrels ? ” he asked. 
“ Well, we shall have one now if you go on reminding me 
in this unhandsome way of all that I owe you. As if I 
didn’t know that you deserve to have everything I can give 
you ! And as if I didn’t mean to give you everything that 
I have it in my power to give ! ” 

That was not quite the spirit in which she had expected 
to be met ; and she was refreshed as well as amused by 
his sensible, practical view of a somewhat complicated 
situation. “You are altogether a man, and altogether an 
Englishman,” said she. “You are, perhaps, right to be 
both, and to quarrel seriously when you do quarrel ; only 
you rather tempt me, who am a woman, and not in the 
least English, to show you how easily differences may be 
provoked and composed. Suppose, for example, I were 
to complain — as surely I have a right to do— that your 
family are hardly treating me with common civility by 
declining to be present at our wedding?” 

“Oh, but my mother is coming, after all,” answered 
Douglas. “ I told you in my letter, you know, that they 
had a lot of work to do with furnishing ; besides which, 
there was the expense of a journey to Paris and back to 
be considered, and you said you wished the ceremony to 
be as quiet as possible. However, my mother has de- 
cided to run over for a couple of nights. As for the girls, 
I suppose you don't particularly care about their putting 
in an appearance ? ” 

“Since you put it in that way,” returned the Countess, 
smiling, “I suppose I don’t. I could even, at a pinch, 
have brought myself to dispense with Mrs. Colborne’s 
maternal benediction. Nevertheless, it is a strange ex- 
perience to me to encounter such absence of ceremony. 


86 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


I have hitherto been accustomed to a great deal of cere- 
mony, you see.” 

“But I thought that was just what you were so 
tired of. ” 

“I am utterly tired of it, and I adore strange experi- 
ences. I am utterly tired of my old life, and I hope it 
will be a long time before I become tired of the new one. 
It ought to be ; because I feel sure that you are capable 
of diversifying it with many little surprises.” 

“So long as you don’t grow tired of me ” Douglas 

began. 

“ Or you of me — which is, of course, more likely, seeing 
that you are a man and that I am a woman. Either way, 
we must take our chance, you and I ; for we don’t really 
know one another yet. The piquant part of it is your re- 
fusal to let me have the benefit of my accidental advan- 
tages. Ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have 
allowed me to settle a small portion of my superfluous 
wealth upon them ; but you are determined that nothing 
shall interfere with your privilege of absolute authority. 
There, again, you are probably right, though you are 
certainly odd. Perhaps I should not be as fond of you as 
I am if you were not at the same time so odd and so con- 
ventional. ” 

Douglas could see nothing odd in his conduct with re- 
gard to settlements, nor could he perceive the point of 
those criticisms upon his personal character in which the 
Countess delighted ; but he liked to hear her say that she 
was fond of him, and as she repeated this statement many 
times and in terms warmer than those recorded above 
before their wedding-day dawned, he looked forward to 
the future without fear. Every marriage must be more or 
less of a leap in the dark ; but, in spite of her assertion, 
he flattered himself that he knew her pretty well, while as 
for her pretending that she did not know him, that was 
absurd ; because there really was nothing to know in his 
case, beyond what all the world might discover in the 
course of half an hour or so. 

Sir Edmund and Lady Royston were good enough to 
hasten their return from England to Paris by a few days 
in order to lend their countenance to the nuptials ; Mr. 
Lindsay consented to act as Douglas’s best man ; Mrs. 
Colborne, who had previously been presented to her future 
daughter-in-law, and had declared her perfectly charming 3 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 87 

laid aside her mourning for the occasion, and the civil and 
religious ceremonies passed off without a hitch, if with- 
out the eclat which might have been considered seemly 
by the relations of one of the high contracting parties. 
But as those relations were sulking in the remote distance, 
their sense of propriety sustained no additional shock. 
The Baroness von Bickenbach was present, and wept 
copiously ; Dr. Schott, secure of his pension, yet not half 
pleased with his dismissal, was likewise a grim spectator 
of the scene. 

A certain great statesman of our own day is reported to 
have muttered significantly after his downfall from power : 
“ Le roi vie reruerra ! ” Somewhat analogous were the 
farewell words of Dr. Schott to his departing mistress and 
patient. 

“The future is not always what we imagine that it is 
going to be,” he observed, “ and one of these days you 
may again find that you have occasion for my poor ser- 
vices. N I can only assure you, madame, that while I live 
these will be at your disposal, and that, should the cli- 
mate of England prove unsuitable to your health, I shall 
be ready to accompany you elsewhere.” 

The Countess interpreted this saying for her husband’s 
benefit as they drove to the railway station. “He means, ” 
she explained, ‘ ‘ that he quite hopes our marriage will 
turn out a failure, and that before very long I shall be re- 
organizing my household on the old lines. ” 

‘ ‘ Then I am very much afraid, ” returned Douglas, laugh- 
ing, “that a disappointment is in store for your physician. 
He is a sour-tempered old brute, and I never liked him. 
Now, the Baroness is really a worthy creature.” 

“Yes; but Bickenbach is useless, because she agrees 
with every word that I say ; whereas the doctor, who un- 
derstands me better, bullies me. If ever I am driven to 
leave you, Douglas, I shall infallibly send for Dr. Schott, 
much as he irritates my nerves. I shouldn’t think of send- 
ing for Bickenbach, who would only cry.” 

“Under those circumstances,” rejoined the bridegroom, 
“ I daresay I may venture to assume that you won’t leave 
me without good cause.” 

That she would never have good cause for repenting of 
her bargain he felt very confident, and the experiences of 
his first month of married life were of a nature to justify 
that confidence in every respect. The newly-married pair 


88 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


wandered through Italy without ostentation, and with a 
modest retinue of only two servants. They penetrated as 
far south as Sorrento ; after which they retraced their steps 
and loitered along the Riviera, meeting nobody whom they 
knew (for none of the people whom they knew were at all 
likely to be in those parts before the month of January), and 
enjoying to the full their freedom from all social trammels. 
For the Countess Radna so quiet a mode of life had the 
charm of complete novelty : perhaps also her husband pos- 
sessed something of the same attraction in her eyes. Be 
that as it may, she was perfectly happy and contented dur- 
ing her honeymoon, and did not fail to apprise him of a state 
of things which was without precedent in her recollection. 

“ What a good thing it is that we can’t spend the whole 
winter dawdling about sunny places,” she exclaimed one 
morning. “ If we could, we might end by having enough 
of laziness — which would be a thousand pities.” 

Whether that result would or would not have followed, 
it was at all events certain that the experiment could not 
be made. Calls of various kinds rendered Douglas Col- 
borne’s return to Stoke Leighton before Christmas imper- 
ative, and in the second week of December his tenantry 
had the privilege of meeting him with a congratulatory ad- 
dress, as well as that of gazing upon the beautiful and richly- 
attired lady who (having espoused an untitled gentleman) 
was still known as the Countess Radna. They admired 
her, it is to be feared, rather more than she admired them. 
She had been accustomed to a somewhat greater degree of 
subserviency on the part of her inferiors than is usually 
manifested in. the County of Bucks, and she was a little 
taken aback when her husband intimated to her that she 
would be expected to place her delicately-gloved hand with- 
in the huge sunburnt palms of various stalwart sons of the 
soil. She was, however, delighted with the aspect of her 
future home, which, although by no means a magnificent 
place, presented that trim and well-kept appearance com- 
mon to all English country homes. 

‘ ‘ This is perfect ! ” she exclaimed, after a cursory survey 
of the reception-rooms ; “ nothing is wanting, except a cer- 
tain number of guests, and — an occupation of some sort. ” 

“ We’ll ask some people down to stay as soon as you 
like, ” answered Douglas. ‘ ‘ As for occupation — well, there 
will be shooting for the next two months and hunting 
until spring.” 


THE COUNTESS KADNA . '89 

“Only, to my misfortune, I don’t either shoot or hunt.” 

“Very few ladies shoot, even in England,” Douglas ob- 
served, “but lots of them hunt, and there’s no difficulty 
about it, so long as you are well mounted and have the 
average amount of pluck. It won’t take me many weeks 
to initiate you into the mysteries of fox-hunting.” 

“Oh, you mean me to hunt with you, then ? All this 
is very new and very diverting ; it looks quite like the com- 
mencement of a fresh existence. I must warn you,' though, 
that I have already tried many fresh departures, and have 
always found that plus fa change plus d est la meme ch&se.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

FAILURES AND SUCCESSES. 

Anybody who has ever tried to teach his fellow-creatures 
anything must have discovered that it is not the stupid 
ones* who give the most trouble. With patience and per- 
severance on the part of teacher and learner, mere stupidity, 
against which a great poet has told us that the gods them- 
selves fight it} vain, will seldom be found a barrier to mod- 
erate proficiency ; but of the people who know a little and 
think they know a good deal, nothing satisfactory can be 
made, and that, in all probability, was why Douglas Col- 
borne failed to imbue his wife with either taste or capacity 
for following the hounds. She was a very fair horsewoman, 
but she rode without judgment and was apt to turn restive 
under instruction ; hence she not only gave herself several 
falls which were absolutely uncalled for, and might have 
had serious results, but speedily acquired a reputation in 
the hunting-field which was not of a nature to render her 
popular amongst her neighbors. Moreover, she did not 
take to those hunting neighbors of hers, whose manners 
appeared to her to be stiff and chilling at some moments 
and far too familiar at others, so that she ended by announ- 
cing abruptly that the pursuit of the fox did not amuse her, 
and that she had had enough of it. 

This seemed a pity, and Douglas was very sorry that 
she should be so soon discouraged and disgusted ; still 


9 ° 


TI1E COUNTESS RADNA . 


her renunciation of a sport which he himself loved was 
not wholly devoid of compensating circumstances, and he 
had the comfort of knowing that the Countess’s social 
success, when she was not in the saddle, was beyond all 
dispute. The county willingly did homage to her beauty, 
to her admirable taste in the matter of costume and to 
her brilliant conversational powers ; as a hostess she was 
perfect, insomuch that the friends of both sexes whom 
he had invited to stay at Stoke Leighton (rather with a 
view to her amusement than his own) fell down before 
her and worshipped her with one consent ; best of all, 
she quickly won the hearts of his mother and his sisters, 
who, as a matter of course, came down from London 
to spend Christmas in their old home. 

“Helene is charming — quite charming ! ” Mrs. Cob 
borne declared emphatically to her son before she had 
been two days in the house ; shortly after which Phyllis 
told him precisely the same thing, and then Loo fol- 
lowed suit. The terms in which these several verdicts 
were pronounced lacked variety, no doubt, but that was 
just what rendered the tribute conveyed by them such 
a striking one ; and Douglas, who reported the good 
opinion of his family to his wife with pride and satisfac- 
tion, did not fail to impress as much upon her. 

“My mother and the girls have always got on pretty 
well together,” he explained, “but they have never had 
the same tastes or liked the same people. That all three 
of them should call you charming shows what an extra- 
ordinary charm you must have.” 

“Oh no, it doesn’t,” returned the Countess, laughing ; 
“it only shows how very easily anybody can be charm- 
ing who choosesTo take the trouble. Do you know how 
to be charming — you, who know so many things ? All 
you have to do is to ask the persbn whom you want to 
charm a few questions about himself or herself, and to 
affect a profound interest in the answers that you receive. ” 

“ But yon are a little bit interested in my people, aren't 
you ? ” pleaded Douglas. 

“Certainly I am, because they are your people. Isn’t 
that a good enough reason ? If it isn’t, I am afraid I can’t 
honestly offer you a better one.” 

If this was not too complimentary to the ladies of the 
Colborne family, it was sufficiently so to their male repre- 
sentative, who naturally did not suspect his wife of 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


9 T 

exemplifying- her theory in his own case, and who was 
rejoiced to think that all risk of coldness or misunderstand- 
ing between those upon whom his affections were centred 
might now be regarded as outside the bounds of proba- 
bility. * 

The Countess, however, could not reasonably be ex- 
pected to take the trouble of making herself charming to 
his friends as well as to his relations, and for some reason 
or other she did not see fit to expend any pains upon 
fascinating Miss Rowley, who, like the rest of the world, 
was at home for Christmas, and who called upon the 
new mistress of Stoke Leighton one afternoon. It is 
notorious that when a man marries he usually finds him- 
self compelled to drop the feminine intimacies which have 
brightened his bachelor years, and it is likewise proverbial 
that two of a trade never agree. Perhaps the good- 
humored Peggy made herself a trifle too much at home ; 
perhaps long enjoyment of wealth and independence 
had brought about a certain similarity in the respective 
mental attitudes of these two ladies towards their fellow- 
mortals which was not conducive to mutual toleration : 
in any case they evidently did not hit it off together, and 
Douglas, as an impartial man, could not but admit that 
the fault lay rather with his wife than with her visitor. 
The Countess, who could be English, French, or German 
at will, chose upon this occasion to be altogether Teutonic. 
She was painfully polite and crushingly ceremonious ; 
she neither made advances nor responded to them ; and 
if Peggy Rowley had been an easily snubbed person, 
snubbed she must unquestionably have felt. 

But Peggy, having the great advantage of not caring 
a straw whether the Countess Radna liked her or not, 
accepted the rebuff inflicted upon her with undiminished 
cheerfulness. She acquitted herself conscientiously of her 
part ; she said and did all that neighborly civility seemed 
to demand, and during the latter portion of her visit she 
addressed her remarks chiefly to the two girls, both of 
whom had given her a very warm welcome. 

“ I shall be starting off in a few days to stay with half- 
a-dozen different people, ” she said, as she rose to take her 
leave ; “but, of course, if anything should happen to poor 
old Majendie, who is very bad I hear, I shall come home 
at once and set to work canvassing. You know,” she 
added explanatorily to the Countess, “we mean your 


9 2 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


husband to be our future member. We are going to get 
him in ; but, in order to do it, we must all be upon the 
spot at the right time.” 

“ Indeed ? ” answered the Countess, with slightly raised 
eyebrows. “ I did not know that women were allowed 
to vote for members of your Parliament. ” 

“We don’t vote ourselves, but we tell the electors how 
they are to vote, and quite a large number of them obey 
us. Your help, I can assure you, will be most valuable, 
and I shall certainly claim it when the moment for action 
arrives.” 

This open taking of the candidate under her wing was 
perhaps somewhat injudicious, but Peggy was too mag- 
nanimous to be actuated by any small sentiment of spite 
or any desire to provoke jealousy. She often blundered in 
the way that men blunder, but from the failings charac- 
teristic of her sex she was singularly exempt. 

As ^oon as Miss Rowley had departed, the Countess 
retired into her boudoir, taking with her her younger sister- 
in-law, through whose arm she affectionately passed her 
own. 

“ Tell me about this delightful friend of yours,” she 
began, as she sank into one of the luxurious arm-chairs 
with which the room was a little overcrowded. “ How 
does she manlage to win elections P and why is she so 
kind as to exert herself in this way for Douglas ? She 
must have great talent or great influence or great benevo- 
lence. All three, perhaps ? ” 

V Oh, I am so glad you like her ! ” cried the unsuspect- 
ing Loo. ‘'Yes; I really think she has all three, and 
naturally she is anxious to do anything that she can for 
Douglas, because they have been intimate from their 
childhood. She has been kindness itself to us, though ” 

“ Yes ? ” said the Countess, interrogatively. 

“ I was only going to say that I don’t suppose she can 
care quite as much for us as she does for him ; but perhaps 
that would be rather an ungrateful speech to make. Any- 
how, it would be difficult for her to be as fond of me as I 
am of her. To tell you the truth, I always used to hope 
that Douglas would marry her,” the girl concluded, with 
a laugh. 

The lady whom Douglas had preferred to marry received 
this confidence without apparent perturbation, but pardon- 
able curiosity prompted her to put a good many more 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


93 


questions, to which full replies were forthcoming. Loo 
Colborne was by far the most communicative member of 
the family, and it was doubtless by reason of that patent 
fact that she was then sitting in her sister-in-law’s boudoir. 
In a very brief space of time she had related all that the 
most inquisitive person couldjiave desired to hear. 

“ However,” she thought it only fair to end by acknowl- 
edging, ‘ ‘ I daresay things are really better as they are ; 
for we have gained you, Helene dear, and we haven’t lost 
Peggy, as I was half afraid we should at first.” 

Late that evening the Countess said abruptly to her 
husband : “Why didn’t you marry the woman who was 
obviously sent into the world for the express purpose of 
becoming your wife ? She is not precisely a beauty, I 
admit ; but she is not so bad looking, and in all other 
respects she would have suited you admirably.” 

“ My dear Helene, you ought to know, if anybody 
ought, that I have married the only woman whom it 
could ever have been possible for me to marry. You 
surely don’t mean that you are ” 

“ Jealous of Miss Rowley ? ” interrupted the Countess. 
“ Oh dear, no ; I am aware that you fell in love with me, 
and I presume that, when you did so, your heart was 
your own. What astonishes me, taking all things into 
consideration, is that you should have escaped losing it to 
her.” 

“ Upon my honor, I did escape.” 

“ Ah ! then you are more fortunate than she has been. 
Oh, I hear your modest disclaimers already ; you peedn’t 
trouble to shower them upon me. They do you honor ; 
but, unfortunately, they can’t prevent Miss Rowley from 
driving you into Parliament because she is in love with 
you, or your relations from lamenting that you have been 
too perverse to reward her according to her deserts.” 

“ You have taken up an altogether wrong idea,” re- 
turned Douglas, looking annoyed, “ and I am very sorry 
for it, because I hoped that you would make friends with 
Peg Rowley, who is no more in love with me than I am 


with her.” 

“That is understood of course, and she shall not be 
accused of anything so improper again. But I’m afraid I 
can’t exactly make friends with her, even to please you — 
she is probably too English for me. Political life is very 
well ; amusement and excitement are to be got out of it 


94 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


occasionally, and I should like, just as much as Miss 
Rowley would like, to see you in the House of Commons. 
But all this struggling for votes, this flattering and cajol- 
ing of bourgeois electors — is it not a little beneath people 
of our station ? ” 

Douglas made a deprecatory gesture. “It maybe,'’ 
he replied but it is th£ necessary consequence of a 
democratic form of government, and I think I have heard 
you talk as if you didn't much admire or believe in class 
privileges.” 

“ I don’t believe in any sort of divine right, and if I 
were a bourgeois or a mechanic, I should wish to make 
short work of the upper classes most likely : only as I 
happen to belong by birth to the upper class, I would 
rather be made short work of by these people than stoop 
down to black their boots. In a word, I am half Hun- 
garian, half French, whereas your Miss Rowley is, as I 
say, entirely English ; that is one reason why I can’t 
oblige you by becoming her bosom friend.” 

There was doubtless another reason, and a less far- 
fetched one ; but he was sensible enough to abstain from 
any further allusion to that and to resign himself, with a 
sigh, to an estrangement which he perceived to be inevi- 
table. All the same, he resolved that he would not throw 
over an old friend because his wife, like many of the best 
of woman, was subject to fits of unreasoning jealousy. 
Jealousy is a venial offence, but cowardice and infidelity 
cannot be excused upon any plea whatsoever. 

Now the Countess had averred that she was not jeal- 
ous of Miss Rowley, and perhaps she was not so in the 
ordinary acceptation of the term ; she was aware that her 
husband loved her and that he did not love one who 
might have been her rival. But what had caused her to 
declaim against British electioneering tactics was partly 
her instinctive knowledge that Peggy would beat her 
easily in that field of activity, and partly her conscious 
inability to interest herself in the duties and relaxations 
which were common to Douglas and to the heiress whom 
Nature seemed to have marked out as his mate. Besides, 
Miss Rowley was not the sort of woman with whom she 
would have cared, under any circumstance, to become 
intimate. * 

That being so, it was almost a pity that old Mr. Majen- 
die’s demise should have taken place with unexpected 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


95 


suddenness that very same night. Upon the receipt of 
the news, Miss Rowley at once abandoned her projected 
visits ; a stream of letters and telegrams began to pour in 
at Stoke Leighton, and although the newspapers announced 
that no steps would be taken by either party until after 
the funeral of the late member, unofficial preparations 
were initiated without delay. The next few weeks were 
very busy ones both for Douglas and his wife : to the for- 
mer they brought a good deal of fatigue, not unmixed 
with pleasurable excitement, but to the latter they brought 
fatigue pure and simple. She did all that she was asked 
or expected to do ; she smiled as prettily as possible upon 
recalcitrant voters and their families ; she took her place 
day after day and night after night upon crowded plat- 
forms, heroically swallowing her yawns while she list- 
ened to the eloquence of the Tory candidate and the 
replies that he made to searching questions ; but she could 
not make out, nor had she any great wish to make out, 
what it was all about. Those queries and answers, which 
occasioned the keenest emotion to Peggy Rowley (for 
Douglas, as has already been hinted, was not the sound- 
est of Conservatives), meant nothing at all to her ; as far 
as she was able to understand their drift, they did not 
strike her as meaning anything of supreme importance to 
anybody ; the two things which gradually became clear 
to her through all this clamor of tongues were, first, that 
her husband was going to be elected ; and, secondly, that 
his election would, in the opinion of all competent judges, 
be chiefly if not entirely due lo the unwearied exertions 
of the lady of Swinford Manor. 

Yet, as the lady of Swinford Manor could have informed 
her, Mr. Colborne’s election was by no means a foregone 
conclusion ; for his opponent was a strong man with a 
strong following, while he himself was considered a trifle 
crotchety by not a few of those who had supported Mr. 
Majendie. They did not want — who does ? — to be repre- 
sented by that unsatisfactory being, an independent 
member ; and upon more points than one he refused 
absolutely to bind himself by any definite promise. He 
would in all probability have been punished for his fads 
and his scruples by exclusion from public life but for cer- 
tain considerations which ought never to weigh with the 
constituencies for a moment, and which always do weigh 
with them. The Radical newspapers, when ultimately 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


96 

called upon to record the defeat of their candidate, pointed 
with pride and hope to a diminished majority, and spoke, 
justifiably enough, of “ local causes ” as being responsible 
for their present disfcomfiture ; but Peggy Rowley declared 
jubilantly that if the electors would return so unman- 
ageable a supporter of the Government as Douglas had 
shown himself to be, they would never dream of returning 
any politician who belonged to the opposite camp. 

“ He is quite right to have opinions of his own, you 
know,” she told the Countess ; “ only it is a horribly 
dangerous thing to parade opinions of one’s own before 
securing one’s seat. However, all’s well that ends well, 
and since this business has ended well, I’m not sorry that 
he has made himself free to play any game he likes in the 
house. ” 

“I, at all events, am not sorry that he has been elected,” 
observed the Countess, “ for I really do not think that I 
could have endured many more political meetings. As for 
the game which he may have had it in his mind to play, 
I suppose you know more about that than I do : honestly 
speaking, the game upon which we have been engaged of 
late appears to me to be one of the most tedious and 
troublesome that I have ever seen or heard of.” 

It may be that she would have found the game less 
tedious if the share assigned to her in the playing of it had 
been a less subordinate one ; still it was quite true that 
the methods by which Parliamentary honors are obtained 
in England were not such as to commend themselves to 
her fastidious taste. 

“Since you desired to be made a legislator, I am glad 
you have got what you want,” she said to her husband ; 
“but I trust that it will be a very long time before the 
next election comes. One needs to recover one’s breath 
after this ; and — and to wash one’s hands.” 

“ I am afraid you have, passed through some most un- 
pleasant experiences,” said Douglas, with a twinge of 
compunction ; “ but I hope, as you say, that it will be a 
long time before you have to face the ordeal again ; and 
I think you know that my being in Parliament will be an 
advantage to you in some ways, as well as to me. For 
one thing, we shall have to take a house in London, which 
will make a change for you.” 

The Countess brightened a little at this prospect, for 
she was in truth heartily sick already of her husband's 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


97 


country residence, Sfoke Leighton was less magnificent 
and less dreary in outward appearance than her own 
Hungarian castle, but as a winter dw r elling-place she was 
beginningto find it very nearly as dull. It might be more 
tolerable during the summer months, she thought. Mean- 
while, she insisted that the cost of the London house should 
be her affair, and he could not very well gainsay her upon 
that point, although he would have preferred to do so, if 
he could have seen his way to it. He felt, however, that 
she had a right to live in a larger house than he could afford 
to rent or purchase, and to entertain upon a larger scale 
than his means would admit of ; so he yielded to her 
representations and, as a natural consequence, accompa- 
nied her shortly afterwards to a London hotel, in order that 
she might be able to survey such suitable abodes as were 
then in the market. 

Thus it came to pass that, before long, he found him- 
self master by courtesy of a very fine mansion in Carlton 
House Terrace, the furnishing and decorating of which 
detained him in town until Parliament met and put an end 
to his hunting for that season. The sacrifice of a week or 
two of hunting was a greater sacrifice to him than his wife 
could realize, but he submitted to it manfully, and he had 
his reward in the spectacle of her vastly improved spirits. 

“ London is not precisely Paris,” she remarked, after 
their installation was completed and a heavy bombard- 
ment of visitors and visiting-cards had set in, “ but it is at 
least not the country, Heaven be praised ! Civilized 
humanity was never meant to live anywhere except in cities 
or southern watering-places during the cold months.” 

“We English don’t think so,” observed Douglas, laugh- 
ing ; “ but then, of course, we are barbarians.” 

“ Well, you are a little barbarous, it must be confessed ; 
still you are not a bad sort of people, some of you ; that is 
to say, that one of you isn’t a bad sort of person.” 

Such a declaration made ample amends for loss of sport 
and for the slightly uncomfortable sensation of ruling over 
a household without paying the cost of its maintenance. 


7 


9 s 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE COUNTESS’S BENEVOLENCE. 

It is said by those’ who are familiar with the House of 
Commons and its ways that no newly-fledged legislator 
will, if he is well advised, be in a hurry to address that 
somewhat peculiar assemblage. His proper course, it 
would appear, is to keep his eyes and ears open and his 
mouth shut, so that when at length he does venture to 
speak he may do so in such a manner as to secure some- 
thing rather more encouraging than the slightly contemp- 
tuous leniency which it is customary to extend to the 
inexperienced. Acting upon these, doubtless sound, princi- 
ples, Douglas Colborne resolutely held his peace during 
the early part of the ensuing session, despite the reproaches 
of his wife, who said she could not understand the pleasure 
of belonging to a mere debating society, which met at very 
inconvenient hours. To be a Cabinet Minister might be, 
and probably was, worth while ; but to accept the position 
of a voting machine was to sink below the level even of an 
English country gentleman. 

“ C’est tout dire!” she added with a shrug of her 
shoulders. 

Douglas observed that Cabinet Ministers, like other ex- 
perts, had to serve a period of apprenticeship ; but she 
refused to listen to so pusillanimous a doctrine. “ I have 
known too many Ministers to believe that they learn their 
duties before they have assumed them,” she declared. 
“All they have to do is to make themselves necessary ; 
and no man is really necessary until his friends are afraid 
of offending him. You will find yourself obliged to start 
from that point, whether you start now or next year or 
the year after.” 

As Douglas only laughed at this concise definition of 
the high road to political renown, she dropped the subject 
and ceased to take any interest in public life so far as he 
was' concerned. On the other hand, social life interested 
her far more in London than it had done in the provinces. 
Of course her rank, her riches and her somewhat romantic 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


99 


record sufficed at once to admit her into circles which are 
no longer as exclusive as they were once upon a time, and 
which, probably, would not at any time have excluded the 
bearer of so ancient a title as hers; that was no more than 
she had anticipated and had been accustomed to all her 
life. But she soon discovered that the British aristocracy, 
unlike the Continental aristocracies, which differ from one 
another only in minor details, has a certain distinct cachet 
of its own ; and this, being more or less of a novelty to 
her, appealed to that craving for novelty which was, in 
truth, her ruling passion. She went out a great deal, she 
entertained a great deal, and she enjoyed herself. Hence 
it followed that she was almost always in good spirits, 
and that her husband, whose duties did not allow of his 
accompanying her to a quarter of the dinners, balls and 
receptions which she honored with her presence, but who 
asked for nothing better than that she should enjoy herself, 
was generally in good spirits also ; whence again it fol- 
lowed that he and she drifted by sure, though scarcely 
perceptible stages apart. 

It is not very easy to depict the Countess Radna’s con- 
dition of mind at this period of her life without doing her 
an injustice. Tired though she had been of Stoke Leigh- 
ton, and dissatisfied though she had been with the part of 
second fiddle which she had been conscious of playing 
during the election time, she was not tired of Douglas, 
nor had she ceased to love him. Only she had not learnt 
to revere him, and she had got rid of the impression that 
he was one of those strong men whose wives must need 
'obey them, willingly or unwillingly. The course of events 
had made her once more her own mistress ; and in this 
the course of events was not lucky, for it was really essen- 
tial both to her husband’s happiness and her own that she 
should be kept in a state of subjection. Of this necessity 
she herself had, however, but a dim perception, while 
Douglas, who had the true Briton’s abhorrence of psycho- 
logical subtleties, would have scorned to deal otherwise 
than straightforwardly with one whom he loved. More- o 
over, he was rather stronger than he appeared to be, and, 
entertaining no misgivings as to his ultimate authority, 
did not care to assert it without cause. He was not less 
rejoiced at Helene’s unquestionable social success than he 
was gratified by the amiability which she continued to 
display towards his sisters and the pains which she took 


IOO 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


to procure invitations for them which they might have 
sighed for in vain without her good offices. 

‘ ‘ She is a sort of fairy godmother ! ” Mrs. Colborne 
exclaimed enthusiastically one day. “ Naturally, she-can't 
do much for poor dear Loo — nobody could ; but she is 
helping Phyllis on immensely, and I feel that I can’t thank 
her pnough for all her kindness. It isn’t every young 
married woman who chooses to be bothered with girls, 
and, situated as I am, it is almost a necessity for me to 
appeal to somebody else to befriend my daughters.” 

“ I am sure Helene is only too glad to relieve you of a 
little chaperon duty,” answered Douglas, “but I don’t 
quite understand what you mean by helping Phyllis on. 
To what particular good thing is Phyllis being helped?” 

“ Oh, my dear boy, you understand as well as I do that 
there is only one thing to which girls require a helping 
hand. I won’t be such a hypocrite as to pretend that I 
don’t care whether Phyllis marries happily or not, though 
I suppose you, like all men, are averse to admitting that a 
perfectly genuine love-match may be brought about by a 
little judicious management.” 

“ Oh, that’s it, is it ? ” 

“Good gracious me ! what did you imagine that it was ? 
Don’t let the thought of it disturb you in your study of 
Blue-books though : these are women’s affairs, not men’s. 
All I meant to say was, that Helene is lending us her aid 
out of sheer good-nature and kindness of heart. It is very 
good of her to have taken up Frank Innes, too, as she has 
done. ” 

“Yes; I am glad that she has taken a fancy to Frank 
Innes,” said Douglas. “All the same, I trust she won’t 
think it good or kind to stir up a genuine love-match in 
his case.” 

“As if she would be so foolish ! unless, of course, she 
could get him to fall in love with an heiress. People do 
sometimes fall in love with heiresses, as you know, and 
in a few rare instances the heiress is good enough to be- 
friend her husband’s relations simply because they are his 
relations. I know Helene wishes to befriend Frank ; and, 
as he isn’t a girl, there are more ways than one in which 
he may easily be befriended.” 

This young Innes was the son of Mrs. Colborne’s sister, 
who had espoused a not very wealthy and by no means 
open-handed Scotch laird. Frank, the eldest member of a* 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


IOI 


large family, had received a rather more expensive educa- 
tion than might have been vouchsafed to him had it seemed 
probable, when he was sent to Eton, that he would have 
such an alarming number of younger brothers and sisters. 
The cost of his education was a point upon which his father 
was wont to dwell in explaining the utter impossibility 
of increasing his modest allowance ; and as the salary 
attached to a clerkship in a Government office which he 
held did not much more than suffice to pay for his clothes, 
he could hardly have managed to exist at all unless the 
liberality of his father had been supplemented by that of his 
mothers relations. The late Mr. Colborne, who had been 
fond of the lad, had been in the habit of helping him out 
with the annual donation of a couple of hundred pounds, 
which payment had, as a matter of course, been continued 
by Mr. Colborne’s son and heir. Douglas also was much 
attached to his cousin ; for Frank Innes was not only a 
handsome, curly-headed, blue-eyed young fellow of that 
type which naturally and inevitably secures friends for 
those who belong to it, but was a fearless rider, a fair shot, 
and a really excellent cricketer into the bargain. He had 
other valuable and attractive qualities in addition to these ; 
so that, in spite of his poverty, he was not so very much 
to be pitied after all. 

The Countess had taken him under her especial protec- 
tion, her favorable notice having, no doubt, been secured 
in the first instance by his good looks (for.it is useless to 
pretend that beauty is not an advantage to men as well as 
to women), but also because she had been well pleased and 
rather amused to discover that he had made her husband 
the subject of a juvenile and enthusiastic hero-worship. 
Perhaps she herself was not able to regard Douglas as 
precisely a hero, and perhaps she was not sorry to find 
that he could present himself in that light to others. It 
became a favorite diversion of hers to speak disparagingly 
of him, for the sake of seeing the young man’s color rise 
and his blue eyes kindle. 

“Oh,” she would say, “I know quite well what it is 
that you Englishmen admire : the man who can jump 
higher or run faster or kill more birds than you can stands 
upon a much more lofty pinnacle in your esteem than the 
greatest statesman or philosopher or poet of the age. I 
don’t think it is true that you take your pleasures sadly ; 
but you take them very seriously — far more seriously than 


102 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


your duties. One of the funniest things in this funny coun- 
try is the contrast between the perfection with which all 
your amusements are organized and the slipshod fashion 
in which you manage your army, your navy, the conduct 
of your public business* and other matters of secondary 
importance. What astonishes me is that my husband 
should have deliberately chosen to busy himself with such 
trifles. It would have been so much better to devote his 
whole attention to hunting and shooting and cricket, 
wouldn’t it ? ” 

To remarks of this ironical description Frank Innes 
would reply that there were some fellows who could do 
anything and everything that they chose to give their 
minds to, and that his cousin was one of them. He was 
wont to add, by way of closing the discussion, that she 
might say what she liked, but that when she met with a 
better all-round man than Douglas he would take it as a 
favor if she would let him know of it, that was all. 

She did not oblige him in that way, but she liked him 
well enough to oblige him in other ways ; and it is to be 
hoped that a really well-meaning and well-conducted 
youth will not be hopelessly damaged in the reader’s 
estimation by the avowal which has to be made that she 
paid a few outstanding bills for him. He ought not, per- 
haps, to have taken money from her ; but then, as she 
pointed out to him, she had such a lot of money ! Besides, 
although she was in reality only his cousin by marriage, 
her virtual position was much more like that of an aunt. 
“ And nobody,” she said, “ has ever thought of disputing 
an aunt’s privilege to make occasional little presents to 
her nephews.” 

Whatever this reasoning may have been worth, it suf- 
ficed to overcome the scruples of Frank Innes, who lived 
habitually among rich people, who had much ado to recon- 
cile economy with that mode of life, and whose affection 
for the Countess Radna was not unnaturally augmented 
by her generosity. It was she who, during the Easter 
recess, insisted upon his accompanying her and her hus- 
band to Paris, where the house in the Avenue Friedland 
stood ready for their reception ; and he was not a little 
impressed by the magnificence of her travelling arrange- 
ments, the splendor of an abode which she so seldom 
occupied, and the high consideration which she evidently 
enjoyed in the French capital. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


103 


“Why your wife is a sort of princess ! ” he exclaimed 
wonderingly to his cousin. “In fact, I shouldn’t think 
there were many princesses, or queens, either, who could 
do things in her style.” 

“ Oh, she is very rich,” answered Douglas. 

“.And she makes a good use of her money too.” 

“Well, yes ; I think she does. But, between you and 
me, Frank, there are moments when I almost wish that 
she had no more than a trifle of 5,000/. a year or there- 
abouts.” 

Douglas did not explain himself further, nor did the 
younger man inquire what he meant by a wish which 
sounded a shade ungracious ; but the discerning reader 
will probably have no difficulty in understanding that the 
position of a prince-consort is not wholly free from draw- 
backs. 

For the rest, the Countess Radna knew that as well as 
anybody, and was very careful to refrain from hurting 
her husband’s susceptibilities more than was inevitable. 
It was scarcely her fault that she could not help doing so 
every now and then. After they had returned to London, 
for instance, and were in the full swing of the season, she 
annoyed him quite unintentionally, and in a manner 
which rather surprised her, by expressing her intention of 
charging herself with the providing of Phyllis’s dot. 

“Why in the world shouldn't I ? ” she asked, in reply 
to his somewhat curt intimation that such an arrangement 
was not to be thought of. “That kind of thing is done 
every day in other countries, and I don’t think it can be 
considered so utterly inadmissible here, for your mother 
gave her consent at once. You pay me a poor compli- 
ment by being so proud, and you are not very kind to 
your sister either. I presume you have noticed that Col- 
onel Percy is paying her a good deal of attention, and I 
presume you must be aware that it is just that question of 
the dot which prevents him from speaking out. He isn’t 
a rich man, you see, and probably he thinks that it would 
be hardly fair to offer himself to a girl who might have to 
submit to privations as his wife.” 

“That is only a pretty way of saying that Percy doesn’t 
care enough about her to marry her unless it is made worth 
his while,” answered Douglas in a vexed tone. “ I can’t 
say that I have noticed his attentions ; I haven’t much 
time fbr noticing these things ; but I believe he has at least 


104 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


a thousand a year of his own, and he will be well enough 
off some day. What you say would make me hesitate to 
promise a very large provision for Phyllis, even if I were 
as well able to do so as you are. However, Pll speak to 
my mother about it.” 

He made a point of speaking rather peremptorily to his 
mother about it ; and the result of his doing so was not 
the least what he had expected it to be. 

Colonel Percy, who, before Douglas had resigned his 
commission in the Guards, had been a brother-officer of 
the latter, was a man well known in smart circles. There 
was very little to be said against him, except that he was 
at least fifteen years older than Phyllis, and that his tastes 
and experiences had been such as to render him her 
senior by any number of years ; nor could much be urged 
in his favor, except that he was heir to a baronetcy and to 
a moderate estate. 

“It really doesn’t seem to me,” said Douglas, “that 
Percy is quite so great a catch that we need feel tempted 
to bribe him into an alliance with us — at somebody else’s 
expense. ” 

Mrs. Colborne was seldom angry, and, as a rule, either 
was or pretended to be frightened when her son spoke 
angrily to her ; but upon this occasion she deemed it her 
duty to rebuke him roundly and soundly. The assump- 
tion that any attempt to “ bribe” Colonel Percy had been 
made or contemplated was, she said, hardly worth refut- 
ing, though she was extremely sorry that such a suspicion 
should have been entertained. It was true that he was 
not what worldly people would call a great catch ; but 
surely it was more important that Phyllis should care for 
him (if, indeed, she did so, which was by no means 
proved as yet) than that he should be a millionaire. 
Finally, Douglas might remember that, although he was 
the head of the family, he was not entitled to dictate 
either to his sister or his wife as though he were a despot 
and they his slaves. The one might marry without his 
consent, and the other, Mrs. Colborne presumed, might 
spend her own money as seemed best to her without his 
consent. 

“I am not objecting to Phyllis’s marrying Percy,” Doug- 
las declared, ‘ ‘ although he isn’t exactly the husband whom 
I should have chosen for her. As for my wife, of course 
she is free to spend her money in providing the mdrriage 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


I0 5 

portion— if you don’t mind taking such a gift from such a 
quarter. But I hope at least that you won’t let Percy 
know of your intention and hers.” 

Mrs. Colborne repelled this unworthy insinuation with all 
the scorn that it merited. ‘ ‘ Do you actually believe, ” she 
asked, “ that I am capable of going to Colonel Percy and 
telling him that, if he will be good enough to marry my 
daughter, he shall receive a handsome dowry with her 
from my daughter-in- law ? ” 

Probably she was not capable of behaving with that 
extreme degree of candor ; but she was, Douglas feared, 
capable of conveying hints which were likely to be trans- 
mitted to the desired destination, and she did not hesitate to 
avow herself capable of profiting by “dear Helene’s kind- 
ness and liberality.” She said that, in the event of her 
doing this, she would certainly make no secret of the mat- 
ter, nor would any right-minded person think of censuring 
her ; and she almost made her son laugh when she wound 
up by remarking that men of Colonel Percy’s expectations 
and social importance are not to be met with every day, 
even though they may not be “great catches.” 

The upshot of it was that Douglas had to withdraw his 
opposition with more or less of a good grace, and that 
before the end of the season Colonel Percy proposed and 
was accepted. The engagement was cordially approved 
of by everybody, except the brother of the bride-elect, and 
even he coul(F not - openly disapprove of it, though the 
manner in which it had been arranged was not to his 
liking. 

“ Oh, it’s all right,” said he to Frank Innes, who met him 
with congratulations in Palace Yard as he was leaving the 
House of Commons one evening. “ Percy isn’t a bad 
sort of fellow, and if Phyllis is fond of him, as she says 
she is, they ought to be happy together. All the same, I 
wish my wife would be contented to give them a wedding 
present of a grand piano, or a brougham, or something of 
that sort. I may be altogether wrong in my ideas, but 
it seems to me that no gentleman or gentlewoman ought to 
accept a gift of a large sum of money from one who isn’t 
even a blood-relation. ” 

Frank winced and colored slightly, but observed, after 
a pause, that it was rather difficult for those who were 
hard up to live in conformity with so lofty a standard. 
“And I suppose, you know,” he added, “that the Coun- 


io6 THE COUNTESS RADNA . 

tess does consider herself related to your people now. In 
fact, I know she does. I daresay you are right to be so 
punctilious, and I admire you for it ; only, my dear Doug- 
las you mustn’t expect the general run of us poor sinners to 
be like you ; we can't get much further than admiring you, 
most of us.” 

The Countess could not, in this particular instance, get 
so far. She might have respected her husband, though 
she would doubtless have been very angry with him if he 
had placed an absolute veto upon her proposed benevo- 
lence ; but she did not think the better of him for holding 
opinions which struck her as ridiculous and overstrained 
in themselves, and of which he did not appear to have the 
courage. 

“For Heavens sake,” she exclaimed rather impati- 
ently, in answer to his final protest, “ let us not talk like 
a couple of bourgeois ! You and I surely understand just 
what money is worth. It is useful, and we are glad to 
have it and use it when it is wanted ; but we are not going 
to make a god of it, as the middle classes do. If you 
wish to be very amiable, you won’t say another word to 
me upon this vulgar subject. ” 

He dropped the subject, perceiving that nothing was to 
be gained by pursuing it ; but he was not convinced that 
it is vulgar to be scrupulous, nor was he quite pleased with 
his wife's tone. If he had not had so many other things to 
think about, he would have gratified her, perhaps, by in- 
itiating one of those quarrels which she had once predicted, 
and of which he had hitherto managed to steer clear. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

CE QUE FEMME VEUT. 

Lover’s quarrels, as all the world knows, have from time 
immemorial discharged the beneficent task of moral 
thunderstorms, and it was probably as desirable as it was 
inevitable that some few further struggles for mastery 
should take place between Douglas Colborne and his wife 
—if not upon the question of Phyllis’s dowry, upon some 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


°7 


other which would answer the purpose equally well. 
But, setting aside his natural masculine horror of rows 
and his political preoccupations, he had a very good rea- 
son for being reluctant to cross her at this time, if he 
could possibly help doing so. The doctor said that, in 
view of an event which was not so very far distant, the 
Countess ought not to be crossed ; he also said that she 
ought not to be overfatigued ; and ho\V to carry out the 
latter injunction without disobeying the former became a 
problem of more pressing importance to Douglas than that 
of reconciling hi£ sister s acceptance of a little fortune with 
his own notions of what may and what may not be ac- 
cepted from a wealthy sister-in-law. 

For the Countess, unfortunately, liked London society, 
while she hated the idea of being sent down to Stoke 
Leighton before the end of the session. Nor was this pros- 
pect made at all more attractive for her by Mrs. Colborne’s 
kind offer to accompany her thither and take care of her 
until Douglas should obtain release from his Parliamentary 
labors. She ended, however, after a great deal of discus- 
sion and persuasion, by assenting to the proposed arrange- 
ment — partly because she really felt too ill and weary to 
keep up her present manner of life, and partly, it is to be 
feared, because, like most mortals who are out of health 
and out of spirits, she was not unwilling to" be furnished 
with the luxury of a grievance. To Stoke Leighton, there- 
fore, she went, attended by Mrs. Colborne and the girls, 
while Douglas continued for the time being to inhabit a 
corner of the mansion in Carlton House Terrace. 

Now, it may be concluded that if separation from her 
husband was a very fair sort of grievance, as grievances 
go, the company of her mother-in-law and her sisters-in- 
law was an even more substantial one. She did not dis- 
like any of them personally, but she did not care much 
about them individually or collectively, and they bored 
her not a little with their kindness, their exaggerated pre- 
cautions for her comfort, and their unending flow of con- 
versation upon topics which had not the faintest interest 
for her. She wished them all well, only she wished them 
out of sight and hearing.; and she looked forward with 
some apprehension to the probability of their spending the 
entire summer in their former home. They certainly 
talked as though such were their intention. They had no 
country-house of their own, and the chances were that 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


108 

Mrs. Colborne’s resources did not admit of their hiring 
one ; added to which, their present quarters suited them 
admirably, being within easy reach of Windsor, where 
Colonel Percy was quartered. Although nothing had been 
said about it, there seemed to be a tacit understanding 
that the wedding, which was to take place in the autumn, 
would be solemnized at the parish church and that the 
bride would be married from her brother’s house. That 
sort of thing, the Countess sometimes reflected in mo- 
ments of ill-temper, is scarcely the reward that one is en- 
titled to expect for having shown oneself amiable as well 
as generous. 

Colonel Percy, who was always coming over to 
luncheon, was a rather dull man ; Phyllis, though grate- 
ful and affectionate, was reserved ; the pair did not, after 
all, seem to be passionately in love with one another. It 
was impossible to feel any great interest in them, and not 
easy even to participate in the excitement which attended 
the purchase of the trousseau. The Countess was, per- 
haps, too rich to care as much as women generally do 
about chiffons ; at any rate, she did not care about them, 
preferring to leave such matters to her dressmakers, her 
tailors and her maids. More than once she had vague 
thoughts of decamping at a moment’s notice — so as to 
avoid argument — and telegraphing to her husband to join 
her somewhere on the Continent. More than once, too, 
she caught herself sighing for Bickenbach, who at least 
understood her and her moods, though she was such an 
old goose. 

‘ Matters mended a little, but only a little, when worn- 
out legislators were dismissed for their holidays and when 
Douglas arrived, rejoicing at the prospect of once more 
donning his cricketing-flannels. It is true that the Coun- 
tess altogether failed to understand the fun of cricket, even 
after she had witnessed a match and after all its details 
had been fully and laboriously explained to her ; it is true 
that to hear cricket, and scarcely anything else, talked 
about from morning to night is a little, trying to anybody 
who does not play the game ; still she was glad to have 
her husband back, and glad also that he had brought 
Frank Innes with him. Frank Innes was the one of Doug- 
las’s relations whom she liked by far the best ; Frank was 
not wholly given up to sports and pastimes ; he could talk 
for instance, about music, and was just now very willing 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


109 

to do so, having recently discovered, to his great delight, 
that he possessed a pure tenor voice, which he was cul- 
tivating with great assiduity. Frank was one of those 
young men who are always ready to bestow immense 
pains upon any kind of work which is not compulsory. 

“ I'll tell you what it is,” he said one day to the Count- 
ess, with whom he was now upon terms of the most con- 
fidential intimacy ; ‘ I shouldn't wonder a bit if I were 
to turn out a second Sims Reeves some fine morning. I 
was talking last week to a professional chap, and he told 
me that the quality of my voice was pretty nearly perfect. 
To sing a couple of songs at a hundred pounds apiece on 
Tuesdays and Thursdays during the season, and to have 
the rest of one’s time free for innocent diversions, would 
be about good enough, wouldn’t it? ” 

“ I am not sure that it would be good for you to have 
too much free time, or that all your diversions would be 
innocent,” she answered, laughing ; “but if Heaven has 
blessed you with a talent or a faculty of any kind, you 
certainly ought to utilize it. Unhappily for me, Heaven 
has seen fit to deny me exceptional talents and faculties.” 

“That’s quite as it should be. Having granted you 
exceptional beauty and an exceptionally big fortune and 
the very best husband in the world, Heaven has done 
more than enough for you, in my humble opinion. I 
used to think Miss Rowley the luckiest woman of my ac- 
quaintance ; but you can walk right away from her. Of 
course she isn’t in the same class with you as far as beauty 
goes, and I don’t suppose she is a quarter as rich ; more- 
over, she hasn’t had the good fortune to marry Douglas.” 

“Well, no, she hasn’t married him, but she doesn’t 
allow that trifling omission to deter her from treating him 
as if he belonged to her. She was here the other day, and 
she couldn’t have given him more orders or instructions 
if she had been his sole constituent. I suppose, living 
where I do, it would be an abominable heresy to say 
openly that I don't like Miss Rowley ; but, as I am sure 
you won’t betray me, I may confess in strict confidence 
to you that she is rather too well pleased with herself to 
please me.” 

“Oh, you would like her if you knew her better,” an- 
swered Frank. “ I daresay she may seem to you to be a 
bit dictatorial, but she doesn’t mean to be, and she can’t 
very well help seeming so ; because, after all, she does rule 


I 10 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


the roost hereabouts, you know. Besides, all things con- 
sidered, I should think you could afford to be generous 
to her.” 

That was just what the Countess was not so certain 
about. No doubt, other things being equal, she could (as 
Frank Innes might have expressed it) have given Peggy 
Rowley points and a beating in respect to beauty and 
fortune ; but the inequality of other things was more mani- 
fest to her than it was to her juvenile confidant. She was 
convinced, and perhaps rightly convinced, that nothing 
but the accident of having spent an Easter holiday in Paris 
had prevented Douglas from espousing his well-to-do 
neighbor ; she could not but be aware that Peggy would 
have proved a more suitable helpmeet for him than she 
herself could ever be ; and, although her trust in him was 
not shaken, she did not absolutely trust Miss Rowley. It 
stood to reason that Miss Rowley must be a disappointed 
woman, and one does not need to be a sorceress in order 
to divine what course a disappointed woman is likely to 
pursue under certain circumstances. 

Now, it came to pass that, in accordance with custom 
and precedent, Miss Rowley gave a garden-party at this 
time, and that the Countess Radna, amongst others, hon- 
ored the Swinford Manor festivities with her presence. 
The honor was duly appreciated and the Countess was 
duly admired ; but English people when in the country 
are apt to be too shy or too lazy to conduct themselves 
exactly as they would do in London drawing-rooms, and 
thus it often happens that strangers find their welcome a 
somewhat chilling one. The Countess, after the first few 
minutes, was disagreeably conscious of being left out in 
the cold. Two or three dowagers sat down beside her 
and, with an obvious effort, pumped up commonplaces 
from the recesses of their minds for her benefit ; but these 
ladies were so silly and so tedious that she ruthlessly 
scared them away, and her hostess's middle-aged duenna 
who hovered near her, looking anxious and apprehen- 
sive, was a poor substitute for the knot of young people 
who had congregated round Douglas and were chatter- 
ing and laughing together like so many happy children. 
The Countess would have liked to join the group, but 
did not choose to do so uninvited ; and she appeared to 
have been forgotten both by her husband apd by Peggy 
Rowley, who at that moment was impressing emphati- 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


m 


cally upon him the paramount importance of his making 
a big score at the approaching county cricket-match. 

“I don’t grumble at you for not having electrified the 
House by your eloquence yet,” the Countess heard her 
say ; “you are right to bide your time. But it is as clear 
as daylight that you must do something to win popular 
esteem ; and if you were to get bowled first ball, I should 
tremble for your chances at the general election — which 
may come any day, mind you. ” 

The listener overheard several more speeches of this half- 
serious, half-jocular description, and was not best pleased 
with any of them. It must be acknowledged that if she had 
been pleased, or even if she had not been slightly provoked, 
she would have been a rather abnormal sort of wife. The 
absurd part of it (that, at least, was what she felt) was that 
all these good people who were turning their backs upon 
her were so essentially her inferiors. Anywhere on earth, 
except in England, they would have been bowing down 
before her, while she would have been exerting herself 
with her accustomed graciousness and affability to set them 
at their ease. The experience through which she was pass- 
ing had the advantage of novelty ; but it had the disadvan- 
tage of being novel in quite the wrong direction. To be 
tired of being a spoilt child is probably the destiny of all 
Fortune’s spoilt children ; but it does not follow that their 
longing for a little change is at all likely to be gratified by 
neglect, and the half-hour of undisturbed meditation which 
was accorded to the Countess Radna convinced her that 
change of another kind was what she required. 

“Do you know what I am going to do ?” she said 
abruptly to her husband, as he was driving her along the 
road towards Stoke Leighton in a mail-phaeton, his mother 
and sisters following in the family barouche. ‘ ‘ I am going 
home to Hungary. Hungary isn’t so very much home, 
you may say. Well, I grant you that ; still, when one is 
reduced to a choice of evils, one naturally selects the less. 

I wouldn’t for the world say that there is anything intrinsi- 
cally evil about this rural abode of yours, or about Mrs. 
Colborne, or Phyllis, or Loo, or Miss Rowley, or cricket 
matches or garden-parties ; only it so happens that all these 
people and things present themselves to me in an unmis- 
takably evil light for the moment. Set it down to my state 
of health, if you like ; I shall not contradict you. 

‘ ‘ But, my dear Helene, ” objected Douglas, whose counte- 


212 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


nance had fallen considerably during the above outburst, 
“it is precisely your state of health which puts such a 
journey out of the question for the present. I am sorry, 
though I am not surprised, at your disliking English coun- 
try life, and later in the year I will take you to Hungary 
with pleasure if you still wish it, but I don’t see how the 
thing could possibly be done now — I don’t, really.” 

“ I do. It can be done by the simple expedient of send- 
ing off a few telegrams and taking a few railway tickets. 
There are doctors in Vienna as well as in London ; there 
is one of the name of Schott, who is thoroughly acquainted 
with my constitution and will be only too pleased to obey 
any summons from me. Nothing that I know of prevents 
our leaving England the day after to-morrow — unless, 
indeed, it be the necessity of your acquiring political dis- 
tinction by running to and fro seventy or eighty times 
between one bunch of little sticks and another. ” 

Douglas laughed a little uneasily. “Oh, of course the^ 
cricket doesn’t matter,” said he; “but there’s Phyllis’s 
wedding, you know. If you mean, as I suppose you do, 
that we are to domicile ourselves in Hungary for the next 
three months or so, we shouldn’t be back in time for that.” 

“I should sincerely regret our enforced absence, but I 
imagine that the bride and bridegroom would contrive to 
get married quite comfortably without us. In a word, we 
are not wanted here, and one of us doesn’t want to be here ; 
the only question is whether the other is unselfish enough 
to tear himself away. Don’t trouble to tell me that I am 
unreasonable and capricious ; all that is understood and 
admitted. But when, every admission has been made, the 
fact still remains that I am at the end of my patience. If you 
won’t take flight with me, I shall have to take flight alone. ” 

Douglas Colborne was blessed with a very fairly even 
temper and could control himself as well as most men ; 
but, of course, he did think his wife capficious and unrea- 
sonable, though he refrained from saying so. He con- 
jectured that she must have been put out by something 
which had occurred at the garden-party, and he judged it 
best not to question her, but merely to beg that she would 
take another twenty-four hours for consideration. 

“ If you are still in the same mind this time to-morrow, 
and if the doctor doesn't absolutely forbid it, we will do as 
you wish,” he said. “ Only I must confess that I shall be 
very much astonished if the doctor doesn’t forbid it. ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


IJ 3 

The Countess rejoined that she was not inclined to 
acknowledge herself the slave of any doctor ; whereupon 
her husband made a slight grimace, touched up the horses 
with his whip and held his tongue. 

In the course of the evening he consulted his mother, who 
lifted up her hands and her voice in dismay and was for 
betaking herself to dear Helene’s bedroom immediately and 
reasoning with her ; but this Douglas somewhat peremp- 
torily forbade, remarking that the case was not one in 
which counsels of reason were likely to be of much avail. 

4 ‘ What I can’t quite make up my mind about, ” he added, 
“ is whether I ought to say Yes or No ; and it looks to me 
rather as if I should have to say Yes.” 

“Oh, but you cant!” remonstrated Mrs. Colborne. 
“After having made all your arrangements for the summer 
and autumn, it would be too ridiculous, besides being most 
imprudent and foolish, to upset them in obedience to a 
mere whim, which will probably pass in a day or two. 
Pray, don’t bother yourself any more, but leave Helene to 
me. You might allow me credit for having had some 
experience of these things and for knowing a little more 
about them than you can.” 

That sounded plausible, and Douglas withdrew a veto 
which, as he could not but be aware,, had small chance of 
being respected, whether he withdrew or maintained it ; 
but on the ensuing morning the Countess’s maids received 
instructions to pack up, and soon after breakfast his mother 
sought him out with a crestfallen mien and a confession 
of defeat. 

“ Dear He'lene is most kind and thoughtful,” the good 
lady said, “she begs us not to disturb ourselves in any 
way on her account, and hopes, as I am sure you do, too, 
that we shall remain here until after the wedding, just as 
if we had you with us. But she won’t hear of abandoning 
this journey ; she won’t even listen to any discussion of 
the subject. I don’t quite know how Helene manages it, ” 
added Mrs. Colborne, candidly, “but she has a way of 
making one understand that, when her mind is made up, 
it would be almost impertinent to argue with her. Perhaps 
after all, the risk won’t be so very great. However, we 
shall see what the doctor says.” 

It was at all events evident that Mrs. Colborne’s 
matronly alarm and maternal solicitude had been lulled to 
rest by that unscrupulous bribe of free board and lodging 


H4 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


for the remainder of the summer months ; and Douglas, 
perceiving this, was amused in spite of his annoyance. 
He was naturally rather annoyed at being dragged off to 
Hungary without rhyme or reason just as the prospect of 
a period of holiday-making had seemed to lie open to him ; 
but he was not altogether blind to the petty vexations from 
which his wife was determined to escape, nor did he think 
that he would be justified in opposing her fancies, so long 
as the doctor’s consent could be obtained to the fulfilment 
of them. 

The local practitioner, it need scarcely be said, sanctioned 
everything that he was told to sanction, merely recom- 
mending certain precautions which would have been taken 
without his orders, and the Countess scored a victory which 
was not much the less a victory because it was only won 
upon sufferance. A strong man can afford, and is some- 
times right, to yield a point against his better judgment ; 
but he may be perfectly certain that, whenever he does 
this, his strength will be accounted as weakness by the 
other sex. 

The first stage of the journey undertaken by Douglas 
Colborne and his wife landed them no farther on their way 
than their own house in London. The Countess, who was 
in high good humor, was willing to submit to all trifling 
restrictions, and did not in the least mind spending a week 
over a transit which might have been accomplished in a 
third of that time : provided that she was delivered from 
Mrs. Colborne and the girls and Peggy Rowley, the rest 
was a matter of indifference to her — or, at least, that was 
what she imagined. 

“ I am truly sorry for you,” she said in a half-mocking 
tone to her husband, as they sat down to dinner together 
on the first evening, “but what would you have? Ce que 
femme veul, Dieu veut ; and, to tell you the truth, those ex- 
cellent relations and friends of yours were beginning to get 
upon my nerves in an insupportable manner. I really 
couldn’t have endured them another day.” 

She might have crowed over him a little less defiantly, 
he thought ; but he kept his temper and held his tongue. 
Unluckily, that did not satisfy her. She wanted whatever 
it is (the present narrator docs not know what it is. and 
therefore will not attempt to say)'that women want when 
they insist upon provoking unnecessary squabbles ; she 
was resolved to make him angry ; she laughed at the 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


1 *5 

docility with which he had allowed himself to be placed 
in political leading-strings by a lady whose manners and 
appearance she satirized freely ; she inquired whether 
he had obtained that lady’s permission to absent him- 
self from home, and at length she irritated him into retort- 
ing : 

‘ ‘ Upon my word, Helene, you would do better to imitate 
Peggy Rowley in some respects than to sneer at her. She 
may not be your style, but that doesn’t prevent her from 
being, and well deserving to be, one of the most popular 
women in England. At any rate, there is nothing small 
or shabby about her ; and I’m quite sure that if she hated 
you as much as you seem to hate her, she. wouldn’t say 
nasty things about you behind your back.” 

Well, the Countess had gained her point, and, as so 
frequently happens in such cases, had got rather more 
than she had bargained for or desired. Douglas was not 
a satisfactory man to quarrel with ; anger, which was not 
a transient emotion with him, made him cool instead of 
hot, and so it came to pass that the ensuing encounter 
proved a more serious one than the aggressor had intended 
it to be. Upon the details of it there is no need to dwell. 
Most of us, unhappily, know only too well that, whether 
we remain cool or boil over under provocation, we usually, 
in the thick of the strife, say things which we afterwards 
regret ; and if Douglas sinned less than his wife in this 
respect, the chances are that he was not a great deal less 
aggravating. Be that as it may, she retired to her bedroom 
at length in tears, and without having achieved the hoped- 
for reconciliation, while he betook himself to his study, 
to wonder moodily, over a cigar, whether, in marrying as 
he had done, he had not, perhaps, undertaken a task some- 
what too complicated for the average, straightforward 
Briton to cope with. 

He had smoked a second and a third cigar before an 
agitated tap at his door was followed by the entrance of 
the Countess’s maid, who came to announce that her 
mistress had been taken very ill, indeed, and that she 
thought a doctor ought to be summoned. That this was 
a step which must be taken without delay Douglas per- 
ceived as soon as he had run upstairs, two steps at a time ; 
but that medical skill is of little avail after nature has 
caught the bit between her teeth, he was destined to be 
made aware in the small hours of the morning, when a 


1 16 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


son was born to him who only survived his birth by a 
few minutes. 

“It is very unfortunate, Mr. Colborne,” said the expe- 
rienced personage who imparted these sad tidings to him, 
“but we may well be thankful that things are no worse. I 
am glad to be able to tell you that, so far as can be seen 
at present, the Countess Radna’s life is not in danger. 
Some danger, of course, there is, and must be ; only there 
might have been a great deal more. You cannot have 
forgotten my warning you that absolute rest and immunity 
from worry of any kind would be found essential in her 
case. ” 

It was thus that Douglas, like many a comparatively 
innocent man before him, was humbled to the dust by a 
sense of inexcusable guilt. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

CUTTING THE KNOT. 

Small things, whether they be joys or sorrows, pass out of 
sight and are forgotten as soon as they come into rivalry 
with great ones, and Douglas Colborne had no need to 
reproach himself for a catastrophe which his wife never 
dreamt pf attributing even remotely to his sternness. Never- 
theless, he did reproach himself, his penitence being in 
no wise diminished by the evident sincerity with which, 
when she was able to talk again, she assured him that she 
was unconscious of having anything to forgive. It is true 
that he had some reason for doubting whether he had been 
really and truly forgiven ; because it is difficult for a man 
to understand why the death of an infant, who can scarcely 
be said to have ever lived, should be the cause for more 
than a transient emotion of grief, and because the Countess, 
although she recovered her health as rapidly as could have 
been expected, did not recover her spirits. In certain 
respects one of the sexes must always remain a mystery 
to the other ; perhaps also the honest inability of men to 
enter into the feelings of women is answerable for a large 
proportion of those estrangements regarding which it is 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


nj 

customary for bystanders to affirm that there is no fault 
on either side. 

Such an estrangement now sprang up gradually between 
Douglas and his wife, and was more or less recognized 
and deplored by both of them — by him, it may be, rather 
more than by her. They did not fall out again — it would 
probably have been much better for them if they had — 
they were perfectly good friends, and did their best to 
consult one another's comfort and convenience, but each 
became conscious of a loss of sympathy which was not 
very likely to be regained. In a word, they had witnessed 
the inevitable extinction of romantic love, while that kind 
of love which ought always to be ready to take its place 
at the right moment had somehow failed to put in an 
appearance. Douglas, as men when confronted with 
this universal experience invariably do, shut his eyes to 
the truth ; the Countess, as women (perhaps in this instance 
alone)_generally do, looked it in the face and, as they very 
seldom do, shrugged her shoulders and smiled at it. 

When she was well enough to travel he took her to her 
ancestral domain in Hungary. She expressed a desire to 
carry out the interrupted programme, and of course he 
asked nothing better than to comply with any wish of 
hers whiclr seemed to hold out a prospect of restoring her 
vanished cheerfulness. But Hungary did not produce that 
effect upon her ; nor did the shooting-parties and festivities 
which were organized for his benefit exhilarate him. 
Something was wrong which certainly could not be set 
right by means o'f novel experiences, or sport, or by the 
splendid hospitality of neighboring magnates, who, not- 
withstanding their hospitality, made it manifest, either 
designedly or because they could not help themselves, that 
the Countess Radna’s husband was not in their eyes the 
Countess Radna’s equal. The Right* Honorable Douglas 
Colborne — to give him the full style and title to which 
he may lay claim to-day — will always retain a genuine 
liking and admiration for the Hungarian nobility, who, 
he says, are as good sportsmen and as good fellows as 
if they had been born Englishmen ; but it is most improb- 
able that he will ever care to renew his acquaintance- 
ship with them in their native land. 

He bade them farewell, with no very profound senti- 
ments of regret, in the month of November, by which time 
his wife had signified to him that she also had had enough 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


of her compatriots. She might have added, but did not 
add, that she had had enough of his into the bargain ; she 
might have told him, but did not tell him, that she was 
longing to pass the winter in some sunny Southern resort 
and dreaded the idea of a return to Stoke Leightoft. It 
was no fault of his that he was unable to divine sentiments 
so completely at variance with his own ; nor, on the other 
hand, was it any fault of hers that her husband's country 
residence, when its doors were once more thrown open to 
admit her, struck her as almost unendurably dull, dreary 
and forlorn. Some consolation, to be sure, might be 
derived from the thought that its dulness and dreariness 
were no longer enlivened by the presence of Mrs. Colborne 
and her daughters ; for one of these ladies was now safely 
married, while the other two were as safely domiciled in 
their London home. Still the outlopk in the cold, gray, 
cheerless weather was far from being a joyous one, and 
the Countess’s heart sank as she endeavored to steel her- 
self to the duty of facing it. 

“ Oh, no ; I am not going to hunt again,” she said, in 
reply to an early suggestion on Douglas’s part ; “but 
don’t let that prevent you from followiilg the hounds. In 
fact, I can’t see what alternative is open to you, except 
suicide.” 

It was to speeches of that description that Douglas could 
find no adequate rejoinder. Did she mean that she wanted 
him to expatriate himself, or was it that she cherished 
a smouldering, but unquenchable feeling of resentment 
against him for having once addressed her roughly at a 
critical moment, and that, do what he would, she would 
never be able to live happily with him again ? Either way, 
silence and patience seemed the safest remedies to trust 
to, since he had already expressed and given evidence of 
his repentance, and since he could not turn his back upon 
England, even to please her. So he took to hunting three 
days a week, and often forgot his troubles in the joy of 
riding straight, as well as risking his neck every now and 
again. 

He was thus employed one afternoon, and the Countess 
was, as usual, absolutely unemployed, when who should 
drive up to the door to pay a neighborly call but Miss 
Margaret Rowley. She was admitted, no instructions to 
turn away visitors having been given to the butler, and 
she / was received with somewhat less of formality than she 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


ll 9 

had anticipated on hearing that the Countess Radna was 
at home. The Countess was, in truth, so unspeakably- 
bored that she could not for the life of her help welcoming 
a lady who, in her opinion, was rather too ready to count 
as a right upon being welcomed. Besides, there were 
points as to which she felt a certain degree of curiosity 
which Miss Rowley was presumably in a position to allay ; 
consequently, she did not trouble herself to beat about the 
bush, but, after she had rung the bell and ordered tea, 
began : 

“You have known my husband from his infancy, I 
believe. I wish you would be kind enough to tell me 
candidly what you think of him.” 

Miss Rowley stared for a moment and then laughed. 
“It is lucky, ” she remarked, “that I think nothing but 
good of him ; for if I happened to think him a scoundrel 
or a fool, I could hardly say so, could I ? ” 

“But, as it would be impossible for you to think him 
either the one or the other, my question isn't an unan- 
swerable one. Of course, I shouldn’t have put it if it 
had been.” 

“All the same I don’t know that I can answer it,” said 
Peggy, after a short pause ; “ one doesn’t care to tell all 
the thoughts that one has about one’s friends. Speaking 
broadly, I should say that I think Douglas Colborne an 
excellent specimen of the average English gentleman. 
He is excellent, I mean, because he has all the average 
English gentleman’s good qualities, and a considerably 
larger share of brains. Will that do ? ” 

“Yes, if you will not be induced to say more. But it 
would be more interesting if you were to take into ac- 
count, as you naturally must when you think about him at 
all, that he is an English gentleman who has placed him- 
self by his marriage in a very unusual situation. What 
do you suppose he is going to make out of that situation ?” 

“Doesn't that depend at least as much upon you as 
upon him ? ” asked Peggy in return. “Iam sure that he 
will always behave as a gentleman should ; but that is 
really the limit of my knowledge upon the subject. I 
know no more than that he has married a foreigner, who 
is also a great lady in her own country, and that in such 
cases there is probably need for a good deal of giving and 
taking on both sides. But it is Douglas’s nature to give 
rather than to take ; so it should be easy to live with him,” 


120 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. , 


“Ah, that is really interesting! So a person who is 
more willing to give than to take is your idea of an easy 
person to live with? 1 should have said just the con- 
trary ; but that only shows how useful it is to compare 
notes with other people, Douglas, as you are evidently 
aware, will take nothing ; I wonder how much he would 
give, supposing that he were driven into a corner. ” 

The entrance of the butler, attended by a couple of 
satellites, bearing a tea-table, a kettle and other parapher- 
nalia, gave Miss Rowley time to consider what response 
it behoved her to make to the above challenge. When 
she and her entertainer were once more left to themselves 
she said : 

“I should be sorry to drive him into a corner; the 
most pacific of Englishmen will show fight if he is treated 
in that way. I haven’t the slightest idea of what it is that 
you are alluding to ; only, as you ask me what I think of 
a man whom I have known intimately all my life, I 
needn't hesitate to say that I think he should be taken 
seriously. It would be a hazardous sort of experiment, 
which he wouldn’t understand, to make extravagant de- 
mands upon him merely for the sake of discovering 
whether he would yield to them or not. ” 

“If, for example, I were to beg him to take me out 
of this dismal climate to the Riviera for the rest of the 
winter ? ” 

“Oh, I have no doubt he would do that if you asked 
him ; only he would have to return in the beginning of 
February, when Parliament reassembles, you know. Do 
you really want to go abroad for the winter ? ” 

“ I think I do ; but I am sure that, if I went to Cannes 
or Nice, I should not want to return in the beginning of 
February. It seems to be a niost inconvenient thing to 
be a member of the British Parliament, and I wish Douglas 
would resign his membership. But perhaps such a sacri- 
fice would be too heavy a one to require of him ? ” 

“It certainly would, unless he is a much greater fool 
than I take him for, ” answered Peggy, bluntly. ‘ ‘ No man, 
except an absolute fool, would think of sacrificing his 
whole career for the sake of giving his wife a few months 
of amusement ; and supposing that any sane man did 
make such a fool of himself, his wife would be the very 
first person to despise him.” 

“ C'e$t selon,” observed the Countess with a smile ; “for 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


12 


my own part, I should never despise a man who was 
capable of making a great sacrifice. Some men, you 
know, love things, while others — but, of course, not a 
great many — love people. I was curious to discover in 
which class you would place my husband, and I find 
that your impression is much the same as mine. Still, 
there can be no telling until he has been put to the 
test.” 

“I can’t believe,” exclaimed Peggy, with rather more 
warmth, perhaps, than the occasion warranted, ‘'that you 
would be so selfish as to test him in that way. ” 

“Oh, I am selfish enough for anything. But we will 
talk about something else now, for I see that I am dis- 
pleasing you ; and if I have a right to try my husband’s 
patience I have none at all to try yours. Thank you for 
answering my question so explicitly.” 

Peggy was not conscious of having done anything of the 
sort, but she was conscious of having expressed herself 
with somewhat uncalled-for vehemence ; and, although 
she was a perfect-tempered woman, she would have liked 
very well, at that moment, to box her hostess’s ears. 
That being a method of showing disapproval which is 
precluded by modern usages, she took refuge in distant, 
good-humored politeness for the next five minutes, after 
which she got up and said good-bye. 

After her departure the Countess sat for a long time gazing 
idly at the fire. She had succeeded to some extent in dis- 
comfiting Miss Rowley, but she was not particularly elated 
by that easy triumph, and the remembrance of a few ob- 
servations which had fallen from Peggy depressed her. 
“A man who may always be relied upon to behave like 
a gentleman, and who will always do what is sensible, and 
respectable and ordinary,” she murmured — “oh, that 
describes him to the life, no doubt, and it is a thousand 
pities that two people who were made for each other 
should have been separated by a person who seems to 
have been made only for herself. If he loved me, or if 
my baby had lived ” 

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears ; but she was not 
much given to weeping, and she brushed them impatient- 
ly away. “After all,” she exclaimed, as she started up 
from her chair, “ it is not a question of a tragedy — who 
could construct a tragedy out of such materials ? The 
real danger is that if may degenerate into a farce, and 


122 


THE COLNTESS aaDNA. 


that he and I may agree to grow old and fat fog-ether 
quite comfortably, upon the mutual understanding that 
nothing in this world is of genuine consequence except 
material well-being and political mediocrity. ” 

Now, there really was not, and in her heart she must 
have known that there was not, much risk of such a de- 
scent into bathos as that ; yet she chose to take measures 
for guarding against it. When Douglas returned, she fav- 
ored him with an account of the above recorded conver- 
sation, which distressed him but did not provoke him to 
anger. 

‘ ‘ I dare say Peggy doesn’t always choose her words as 
carefully as she might,” he remarked ; “still, she seems 
to have been substantially in the right. It is true that, 
if you insisted upon it, I would apply for the Chiltern 
Hundreds, and I suppose it is equally true that you won’t 
insist upon it.” 

‘ ‘ Perfectly true, ” answered the Countess, rather wearily, 
“and that is just why you and I find ourselves in a cul-de- 
sac. What does one do when one can neither advance 
nor stand still ? Doesn’t one retrace one’s steps ? ” 

“Only that is impossible, Helene.” 

“Not so impossible as you think perhaps. Shall I tell 
you of two things which are really impossible ? One of 
them is that I should ever become reconciled to the kind 
of existence which I am now leading, and the other is 
that you should ever become reconciled to any different 
kind of existence. It is a great pity, but there is no help 
for it ; so, instead of casting stones at one another, we 
will go and dress for dinner. ” 

By dinnertime her mood had undergone so complete a 
change that Douglas judged it best not to revert to the 
discussion of painful dilemmas- He was willing to grant 
any reasonable demand, as well as a good many which 
might fairly be accounted unreasonable, on his wife’s 
part ; but he did not think himself bound to anticipate the 
latter, and he had a strong impression that she was not 
serious in all her assertions. It was not surprising that 
she found life at Stoke Leighton a dull business, now that 
she would no longer hunt. Well, then, they must take a 
run abroad, that was all, and see what change of scene 
would do for her. 

He did not at once make his benevolent intention 
known, because a great political gathering, at which it 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


T23 

behoved him to be present, was to take place in the county 
during the ensuing week, and he^was afraid that she 
would urge him to shirk it ; but upon the eve of this 
important affair he announced that immediately after its 
conclusion he would be ready to proceed to any southern 
winter station which she might select, and he was not a 
little disappointed by her cool reception of the proposal. 

“Until the first of February, I suppose? ” she said, 
interrogatively. 

“Well, I might pair, of course ; but I am not sure that 
I should be able to manage it. Besides, to tell you the 
truth, Helene, I want to be in the House during the early 
part of the session. If it wouldn’t bore you to listen to 
a short dissertation upon contemporary politics, I could 
explain why.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, but I think it would bore me very much, ” answered 
the Countess, laughing. “Almost as much, perhaps, as 
it would bore you to spend a whole winter in the south. 
Half a winter won't do, thank you ; one must be born 
English to admit that half a loaf is better than no bread. 
Nevertheless, I am sincerely obliged to you for offering 
me the most that you can, and, as I am not going to 
accept this favor, I dare say you will be good enough to 
grant me a smaller one in its place. Will you make my 
excuses to Lord and Lady Winkfield, and say that I am 
too unwell to stay with them ? I cannot flatter myself 
that they will miss me, and, if I went, I should only offend 
them by declining to face a torrent of oratory. ” 

Lord Winkfield was a great territorial magnate, under 
whose auspices the political gathering above mentioned 
was to be held, and Douglas knew very well that offence 
would be given and taken by the Countess Radna’s refusal 
at the last moment to join his lordship’s house-party. But, 
as she remained unmoved by his representations and en- 
treaties, he resigned himself to the snubs which undoubt- 
edly awaited him, and set off to fulfil his engagement with- 
out her. 

He was duly snubbed by Lady Winkfield on his arrival ; 
but his host, who was a good-humored old personage, let 
him off with a mild caution against allowing himself to be 
hen-pecked, and he spoke so well at the different meetings 
to which he was conducted that, what with the applause 
of his audiences and the congratulations of his colleagues, 
he had almost got the better of his chagrin by the evening 


124 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


of the second day. Having now done all that was re- 
quired of him to do, he took leave of his entertainers and 
arranged to make an early start on the morrow. How- 
ever, he did not start so early but that his letters were 
delivered to him just as he was leaving for the station ; 
and amongst these was one from his wife, the contents of 
which tilled him with amazement and consternation. 

It was dated from London, andstated, in a brief, matter- 
of-course way, that the writer was about to cross over to 
Paris, en route for the Riviera. ‘‘Pray excuse this precipi- 
tation,” she added. “It is just possible, though I fear it 
is not very likely, that you may understand how much 
simpler it is to cut a knot than to exhaiist one’s patience 
and hurt one’s fingers in a vain attempt to unfasten it. 
For a day or two, or even a week or two, you will feel 
angry ; but I am quite sure you will not feel lonely while 
you have your mother and your unmarried sister, and, 
above all, your Miss Peggy at hand to console you. ” 


CHAPTER XV. 

IN THE DARK. 

It is not unlikely that the Countess would have been 
pleased, and it is certain that she would have been amused, 
if she could have seen the effect produced upon her hus- 
band by the short missive which she had addressed to him. 
Douglas, while driving to the station, read her letter over 
half a dozen times without being able to arrive at the 
faintest comprehension of its meaning. Helene explained 
nothing ; she assigned no reason for her abrupt departure, 
nor did she mention for how long a time she proposed to 
absent herself ; he would have supposed that she expected 
him to follow her had not that hypothesis been excluded 
by her allusion to his probable wrath and possible lone- 
liness. 

At all events, he must follow her without loss of time ; 
that was the first thing that became clear to him through a 
mist of total bewilderment ; and the next was that he must 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


I2 5 


take measures to protect her from the vexatious conse-' 
quences to which so hasty and ill-advisecl a step on her part 
might have laid her open. With this end in view he was 
careful, when he reached home, to avoid gratifying the 
evident curiosity of the servants. He merely gave orders 
for such clothes as he required to be packed up, saying 
that he was about to join the Countess, who had had to 
leave for the Continent rather earlier than had been antic- 
ipated, and that he would write or telegraph as soon as 
he should be able to name a date for his return. Then lie, 
travelled up to London and, crossing by the night mail, 
arrived at the Gare du Nord on the following morning. 

He was tolerably confident of finding his wife in Paris, 
for he knew what her customary methods of moving from 
place to place were, and that such arrangements as she 
deemed essential for a long journey cannot be made from 
one moment to another ; but he preferred engaging a room 
at one of the large hotels to proceeding straight to her 
house, and it was not until after mid-day that he presented 
himself in the Avenue Friedland. It struck him as a good 
omen that he was instantly and deferentially admitted by 
the urbane functionary whose duty it had been, once upon 
a time, to turn him away from the door. “She does ex- 
pect me, then, after all,” he thought. But he was not quite 
so well pleased when, on entering the ante-room, he found 
his further progress barred by the burly form of Dr. Schott, 
nor did he half like the grin with which his old enemy 
greeted him. 

“I had no idea that you were in Paris, Dr. Schott,” said 
he. “May I ask whether you are here by appointment, 
or only by a — happy accident ? ” 

“I was telegraphed for, and I have come,’* replied the 
Doctor, with something very like a chuckle. ‘ ‘ I am always 
at the orders of the Countess. But you, dear sir — I think 
you have not been telegraphed for, eh ? No, no ! it would 
be a little too soon for that. ” 

Douglas presumed that the man intended to be imper- 
tinent, and was very nearly telling him so, but restrained 
himself. “You must be aware, ” he remarked, “ that my 
wife has left England quite unexpectedly, and without hav- 
ing given me any warning of her departure : therefore you 
won’t be surprised at my having come here as quickly as 
I could in order to see her. Perhaps you will be so good 
as to let her know that I have arrived.” 


126 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


’ “I am not at all surprised,” the Doctor answered, with 
the same ill-concealed air of amused satisfaction, “ and 
the Countess shall certainly be informed that you are 
desirous of speaking with her. As for her consenting to see 
you, that is another matter. Indeed, I am by no means 
sure that I ought not to forbid an interview. ” 

“To forbid it ? ” 

“In my capacity of the Countess’s physician, bien en- 
tendu ; I pretend to no other authority over her or I should 
have exerted it long ago. If I did not fear to offend you, 
Mr. Colborne, I would take the liberty to observe that you 
- and she did not know what you were doing when you agreed 
in such a hurry to bind yourselves together. By this time 
you have probably discovered the difference between 
dreams and realities. The Countess at least, appears to 
have made the discovery and to have been a good deal agi- 
tated by it. All that is no business of mine, you say ? Well, 
sir, it is my business, and I am paid for performing it, to 
watch over my patient’s state of health, and I do not hesitate 
to say that her health will suffer from the reproaches which, 
I perceive, are at the tip of your tongue. I have prescribed 
the only remedy which seems to me likely to prove of any 
service ; that is, complete change of surroundings and 
avoidance of mental disturbance. Consequently, we are 
to leave for Nice in a day or two. I am not called upon to 
prescribe for you ; but, as a friend, I venture to suggest 
that you should return home and attend to your affairs. 
By May or June next circumstances may have become 
more favorable to your wishes ; at present, believe me, 
you will do no good either to her or to yourself by insist- 
ing upon your rights.” 

By way of response Douglas rang the bell and told the 
servant, who promptly appeared, to announce him to 'the 
Countess. “You may say,” he added, “that I wish to 
see her immediately. ” 

Dr. Schott made a deprecating gesture, stuck his hands 
into his pockets and sauntered towards the window. 

‘ ‘ Please to take note, ” said he, presently, over his shoulder, 
“that if you are received, it will be against my advice and 
without my sanction.” 

Douglas did not choose to gratify his tormentor by any 
rejoinder ; and, after what seemed to him an unnecessarily 
protracted delay, the domestic re-entered the room with a 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


127 

request that he would give himself the trouble to step into 
the Countess’s boudoir. 

How well he remembered that exquisitely furnished 
apartment, with its subdued light, its Gobelins tapestries 
and its faint, indescribable perfume. It was into the same 
room that he had been admitted on that evening when he 
had first had the audacity to declare his love, and every- 
thing connected with the situation seemed quite oddly the 
same — including his own feelings. He had been tremulous 
and excited then ; he found, somewhat to his vexation, that 
he was tremulous and excited now. He had been resolved 
then to learn his fate, once for all, and was not that very 
like his present errand ? And when, after keeping him wait- 
ing for a minute or two, his wife made her appearance, 
arrayed in a tea-gown which exhibited the latest inspiration 
of the talented artist whom she employed to design such 
habiliments for her, he felt as if she had, somehow or other, 
ceased to be He'lene and had become once more the Count- 
ess Radna of the past. He was conscious of an utterly 
absurd access of timidity which, no doubt, caused him to 
speak a shade more sharply than he would have done if 
she had looked less cool and unconcerned. 

“ May I ask what all this means,” he began. “ You 
wifi admit that I am entitled to some explanation, and as 
yet you have given me none.” 

“ Haven't I ?” returned the Countess, ensconcing her- 
self in a comfortable chair ; “ I thought I had ; but it is true 
that I wrote in rather a hurry. Indeed, the hurry is the 
only thing that demands explanation, I suppose, and I 
should have thought that it would explain itself. Surely 
a moment of reflection might have spared you the fatigue 
of this long journey. You know how I detest useless 
discussions, and you must have known (because I told 
you) that I had made up my mind to escape from Stoke 
Leighton. It is all very well to hesitate until one’s mind 
is made up ; but when once the feat has been accomplished 
the sooner one acts the better. I am sorry if I have scan- 
dalized the county ; only, as I shall never return there, 
the question of whether these good people are scandalized 
or not is scarcely of so much importance to me as it is to 
you. However, you will be able to calm their minds a 
little by assuring them that I have run away alone ; for 
Dr. Schott, I presume, doesn’t count. 

“Are you speaking seriously when you say that you 


128 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


will never return ? ” asked Douglas, with a slight quiver in 
his voice. “ I can hardly believe that you are ; because 
that would imply that you wish to separate yourself from 
me altogether.” 

“Which would, of course, be inconceivable. Well, if 
you will excuse me, I would rather not enter upon that 
question just at present. I am tired and worried, and Dr. 
Schott will have told you that I am ill. Still, I don’t mind 
saying positively and definitely that nothing would induce 
me to repeat the experiment of residing at Stoke Leighton ; 
one failure of that description is enough for me, and I sup- 
pose you won’t dispute the indisputable fact that I have 
failed. ” 

Douglas did not attempt so hopeless a task ; for, indeed, 
there was no denying that his wife had failed to adapt her- 
self to the conditions of English country life. He only 
remarked, rather grimly, “Stoke Leighton is my home.” 

“It is your home if you choose to make it so ; but it can- 
not be mine. A la rigueur I could put up with London, 
although I strongly suspect that London and you, when you 
are there, would get on as well as possible without me. 
Suppose you were to return home now and try getting on 
without me ? I shall be surprised, as well as flattered if, 
after the warm weather sets in again, I receive a pressing 
invitation to rejoin you.” 

“I can’t understand what you mean,” said Douglas, 
despairingly. “ I may be very stupid ; but I frankly con- 
fess that I am at my wits’ end. What have I done that 
you should speak to me in this way ? ” 

The Countess sighed impatiently. “ What have you 
done?” she echoed. “Will you be satisfied if I answer 
that you have done an excessively stupid thing in rushing 
after me? No; of course you won't. You are — pray 
forgive my candor — too bourgeois in your ideas to realize 
the wisdom of letting a wilful woman have her way or to 
comprehend that nothing is more ordinary than for the 
wife of a public man to spend the winter abroad, while 
his duties retain him at home ; you must needs treat your- 
self to the luxury of one of those noisy scandals which are 
so dear to your countrymen and countrywomen. Very 
well ; since you will have it so, you shall not be defrauded 
by me of your queer, insular method of enjoying yourself. 
Let it be agreed and proclaimed, if you choose, that our 
separation is to be permanent. ” 


THE COUNTESS EADNA. 


129 


“ But in the name of reason and common sense, why ? 
exclaimed Douglas, growing a little warm — for, after all, 
he was not a bourgeois , and he did not much relish being 
called by that name. ‘‘Is it only because you don’t like 
Stoke Leighton that you talk so coldly of abandoning me ? 
That would be too absurd ! Come, Helene, won’t you 
give me your true motives ? Upon my word of honor, I 
am as completely in the dark about them as a man can be. ” 

“ Your word of honor, ” observed the Countess, smiling, 
“ is not much more to the purpose than your invocation 
of reason and common sense. If you haven’t discovered 
by this time how little reason and common sense have to 
do with me or my actions, you may well be in the dark ! 
I despair of being able to enlighten you ; all I can say is, 
that you had better go home and allow me to go to Nice. 
In fact, I shall go to Nice, whether you allow me or not.” 

Douglas paced up and down the room three or four times 
before trusting himself to make any rejoinder. He was 
aware that he had reached an important crisis in his life ; 
he was aware that, unless he could exert his marital 
authority now, he could never be able to exert it again ; yet 
he shrank from issuing a positive order. His wife, who 
was pecuniarily independent of him, could not be forced 
to obey his orders, nor could he emphasize them by any- 
thing short of an ultimatum which appeared to have no ter- 
rors for her. He might, as every unconcerned spectator will 
perceive, have conquered by throwing himself at her feet 
and repeating some of those vows of unalterable love to 
which she had once lent a willing ear ; but as he was by 
no means unconcerned, and as he was very excusably 
incensed, the notion of stooping to conquer did not enter 
into his head. So, as soon as he felt cool enough to 
measure his words deliberately, he said : 

“You force me to the conclusion that you wish to rid 
yourself altogether of my control. I don’t know, and you 
refuse to tell me, what has induced' you to take a step for 
which I was utterly unprepared ; but for some time past I 
have not been so blind as to ignore what I suppose you 
meant to be obvious — that any love you may once have 
had for me has worn itself out. However much that may 
hurt me, I don’t personally consider it a sufficient reason 
for practically annulling our marriage ; but your views of 
marriage are not, I know, the same as mine, and I need 
scarcely say that I have no wish to insist upon my rights 

9 


i3° 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


&s a husband against your will. At the same time, I 
think we must do one thing or the other. I can't see my 
way to accepting a partial separation.” 

“Then we will call it a total separation, and say no 
more about it,” returned the Countess, with a faint flush 
upon her cheeks, but with an air of undiminished ami- 
ability. “ You express yourself in such admirable, 
Christian terms, that I am sure you won't hesitate to throw 
the whole blame upon such a heathen as me, and you are 
most heartily welcome to do so. Let it be assumed that 
the mistake from first to last has been my fault ; it isn’t 
my fault that civilized nations are not civilized enough to 
wipe out mistakes of that kind by means of a divorce. 
However, I can at least promise to give you no trouble 
for the future, and I won't detain you any longer for the 
present. As you have heard from Dr. Schott, I am not 
very well to-day ; so, if you want to make formal con- 
ditions and provisos, and to have them set down in writ- 
ing — as you probably do — perhaps you wouldn’t mind 
calling again to-morrow.” 

She was out of the room before Douglas had time to 
reply ; but in truth he would have made no reply beyond 
a curt acquiescence to her, had she seen fit to wait for 
one. His pain and bewilderment were thrown into the 
background by his just indignation ; and as he tramped 
back towards the hotel in which he was lodging, with his 
chin in the air and a steady frown upon his brow, the 
very last thing that he dreamt of was that his wife was 
at that same moment crying her eyes out in her bedroom 
because — to borrow the amazingly inappropriate phrase 
which she used in her self-communings— he had ‘ ‘ deserted” 
her. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. • 


I 3 I 


CHAPTER XVI. 

SANS RANCUNE. 

That Douglas Colborne did well to be angry — or at least 
that he had the best ostensible reasons for being angry — 
every one will admit ; but it must also be admitted that he 
ought to have had wit enough to perceive the extreme 
improbability of his wife’s having behaved as she had done 
out of sheer caprice or impatient weariness of his society. 
After a dim fashion he did perceive this ; capricious as 
she was, and weary of him as he believed her to be, it 
nevertheless seemed unlikely that she should go the length 
of so abruptly demanding a separation without having 
taken the trouble to provide herself with some sort of plaus- 
ible excuse. Still the answer to that was, that, likely or 
unlikely, the thing had happened ; and when he went to 
bed, after a long and very unhappy evening, he could not 
see his way to making any overtures for a possible recon- 
ciliation. 

Of course matters presented themselves to him under 
a somewhat different aspect oh the ensuing morning : 
matters always do look different in the morning ; and that is 
one of the man y obj ections to answering disagreeable letters 
by retOrn of post. Douglas awoke to the full conscious- 
ness of having been disagreeably dealt with ; but a shave 
and a cold bath aided him to the conclusion that he him- 
self had not been precisely agreeable. Like the honest 
man that he was, he did his best to comprehend his wife’s 
stand-point, and although he could not, as a matter of fact, 
comprehend it in the least, he advanced far enough on 
the way towards doing so to acknowledge that she had 
not met with all the consideration to which she was en- 
titled at his hands. He ought to have remembered that 
some allowance should be made for feminine vagaries and 
eccentricities ; he ought to have seen that to a woman of 


1 3 2 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


her class and habits Stoke Leighton, with its provincial 
sports and its long days of solitude, must needs end by 
becoming intolerable ; he ought, perhaps, to have replied 
to her first remonstrances by promising to take her to the 
South, and even, if she made a point of it, to leave her 
there for a month or two by herself. As a rule, the wives 
of English squires consider it a part of their duty to be 
where their husbands are ; but then his wife was not an 
ordinary English squire’s wife, and he should have borne 
that circumstance in mind in his dealings with her. Upon 
the whole, his conscience would not permit him to shirk 
the obligation of making a sort of an apology. He did 
not propose to make a very full or a very abject apology, 
because he conceived that something in the shape of an 
apology was due also to him ; but he was anxious to put 
himself in the right, and he was not sure that he had done 
this on the previous afternoon. According to the popular 
saying, it takes two to make a quarrel, and he was re- 
solved not to quarrel with Helene ; although she could, no 
doubt, if she persisted in her present attitude, force him to 
separate himself from her. There is a shade of distinction 
between acquiescence and consent. 

It was in the admirably calm and unimpassioned frame 
of mind induced by these reflections that he had himself 
driven once more to the Avenue Friedland and was again 
ushered into the ante-room where he had held his parley 
with Dr. Schott. This time, however, it was not the Doc- 
tor but the Baroness von Bickenbach who advanced to 
greet him, and the Baroness wagged her head mournfully, 
as well as reproachfully, while she took his outstretched 
hand;. 

“Ah, monsieur,” she sighed, “what a misfortune! — 
what a sad misfortune ! ” 

“It is a misfortune which may be repaired, I hope,” 
answered Douglas, in his halting French. “ Indeed, it is 
not so much a misfortune as a misunderstanding: If I 
have been in any way to blame for it, I am ready to beg 
pardon, and I have come here to say so. Would you, if 
it is not troubling you too much, be so good as to inform 
my wife that I have come? ” 

“ Oh,” returned the Baroness, with another deep sigh, 
“there is no need to inform her. She knew very well 
that you would come, and everything has been prepared, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


133 


As for begging her pardon, I do not wish to discourage 
you ; but I fear that it is too late to do that now. She 
would never have sent for me if she had not meant to 
break with you finally.” 

“She may be induced to reconsider her decision,” ob- 
served Douglas, choking down an inclination to retort 
that he was the Countess’s husband, not her slave, and 
that he might fairly claim to have a voice in any decision 
that might recommend itself to her. 

“She may,” agreed the Baroness despondently ; “ but, 
alas ! I doubt whether she will be induced to do so by you 
or by me. You do not know her, or you would never 
have suffered things to come to their present pass. Do 
you remember that day when you stopped me in the 
street, and when I cautioned you about her and advised 
you to go home, I thought at the time that she would 
refuse you, as she had refused so many others ; and I 
believe she did refuse you. I was very sorry, for your 
sake, when you joined us afterwards in the Pyrenees. 
She accepted you then under the influence of excitement 
and emotion ; I do not think she would have accepted 
you if it had not been for that unlucky thunderstorm.” 

“In short, you do not think that she ever cared for me. ” 

“I will not say that. She did care for you, and you 
might have made her care for you to the end of your life 
only — ” the Baroness paused and muttered some ejacula- 
tion in German. “It is difficult to explain,” she resumed 
presently, “especially when one is not speaking in one’s 
own language ; but I think that you have had your opportu- 
nity and that you have missed it. Ah, monsieur, pardon me 
for saying so; but you must have been very maladroit / ” 

The censure was, perhaps, not wholly unmerited. 
Douglas received it very meekly ; yet he remained of 
opinion that clumsiness is not an offence beyond reach of 
pardon, and that love, if it has once existed, cannot be 
killed quite so easily as the Baroness seemed to imply. 
He was beginning to formulate these modest views, when 
he was interrupted by the entrance of Dr. Schott, who 
drew his heels together and saluted the visitor with a pro- 
found bow. 

“ I am instructed,” announced the Doctor, in his thick, 
harsh voice, the accents of which betrayed some inward 
exultation, ‘ ‘ to treat with you, sir, on behalf Qf the Countess 


134 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Radna. She is still, I regret to say, indisposed, and does 
not feel equal to the discussion of matters of business ; 
although I am to tell you that, as soon as we have con- 
cluded our little talk, she will not object to see you in my 
presence arid that of the Baroness von Bickenbach, should 
you desire it.” 

“I desire to see my wife alone,” said Douglas, “and 
I may have to insist upon doing so. That, however, is a 
question between her and me, with which you are in no 
way concerned. What about the matters of business 
which you say 'you are charged to discuss with me? 
They won’t entail a great deal of discussion, I hope ? ” 

The Doctor bowed, and replied that he hoped they 
wouldn’t. “ Indeed,” he added, “there is no reason why 
they should ; for the Countess’s conditions are in some 
respects so moderate and in others so liberal that they can 
scarcely fail to be acceptable to you. First of all, I am 
instructed to say that a sum of money large enough to 
produce an income of at least three thousand pounds, 
sterling will at once be placed at your credit, and that, if 
you find that donation insufficient, it will be increased. 
Secondly ” 

“Stop a moment,” interrupted Douglas. “I should 
have thought it would have been understood — but, as it 
•apparently isn’t understood, • I may as well say so — that, 
in the event of a separation being agreed upon, I shall 
not dream of touching a penny of my wife’s fortune. Now 
you can go on.” 

The Doctor inclined his head and obeyed. The re- 
mainder of the stipulations were such as might have been 
anticipated, and, when summed up, amounted to a decla- 
ration of complete independence, modified by certain con- 
cessions which seemed to have been framed with a view 
to averting scandal. It was suggested, for instance, that 
the husband and wife should for the future meet once or 
twice in the course of the year, as friends, and that the 
fact of their union having been dissolved by mutual con- 
sent should not be formally made public. 

Douglas did not again break in upon Dr. Schott’s ha- 
rangue ; but when it appeared to have come to an end, he 
said : “I have no remark to make about all that, except 
that I must decline to be placeddn the ridiculous position 
of meeting my wife as a friend, and that I see no object 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


*35 


at all in keeping- up a pretence which everybody would 
know to be a pretence. But I will explain myself to her, 
not to you. Now that you have discharged your mission, 
be so kind as to go and tell her from me that no arrange- 
ment of any sort can be concluded until I have had a few 
words with her in private.” 

‘ ‘ I will deliver your message, sir, ” answered the 
Countess’s plenipotentiary, speakipg with that exaggerated 
deference which is almost a^ pleasant to the person 
addressed as a slap in the face ; “ but I have already had 
the honor of mentioning to you what my instructions are 
upon the subject.” 

He was absent only for a short time, during which 
Bickenbach continued to emit noisy sighs at regular inter- 
vals, like minute guns ; and when he re-entered the room, 
he was accompanied by the Countess, who looked per- 
fectly serene and composed. She walked straight up to 
her husband and held out her hand to him, with a smile, 
saying : 

“Sans rancune , n’est-ce pasP” And then, before he 
could reply, she added : “I am glad you won’t take the 
money. The offer had to be made as a matter of form, 
you understand ; but it was not intended to be insulting, 
and I felt tolerably sure that you would not take advantage 
of itf I am capable of doing you justice, you see, now that 
our relations have been placed upon a less impossible 
footing.” 

Douglas was a good deal disconcerted. He did not 
perceive that this assumption of good-humored sang-froid 
must necessarily, at such a moment, be a mere mask, and 
that, whatever might be his wife’s feelings, they could 
not be those which she professed. On the contrary, his 
conviction was that, for good or for ill, she had resolved 
to be done with him ; that, to use Bickenbach’s words, 
he had had his opportunity and missed it ; and that noth- 
ing which he -could do or say now would avail to piece 
together the fragments of two shattered lives. Not, for the 
matter of that, that the Countess’s life seemed to be in 
much danger of being shattered. Her marriage had been 
a painful episode, the memory of which she would doubt- 
less hasten to put away from her, now that she had 
regained her freedom : after all, it was but logical, that 
she could so regard a tie which for her had no religiou$ 


1 3 6 THE CO UNTESS RA DNA . 

sanction or significance. Then, too, while she stood 
smiling at him, he was sensible once more of that remote- 
ness from her which had vexed him on the previous day, 
and which, in spite of himself, caused him to speak dryly 
and formally. However, he made his little effort. 

“ I came here to ask your pardon, Helene,” he began. 
“On thinking things over, I saw that you had some rea- 
sons for complaint against me ; I wished to tell you that 
I was sorry for having shown any want of consideration 
for your wishes, and that, although I still thought you 
had taken a most extreme and uncalled-for way of mani- 
festing your displeasure, I should be willing, on my side, 
to overlook that and let bygones be bygones. That, in 
the main, was what I intended to say ; but it Stands to 
reason that I could say a good deal more if you would 
consent to see me alone for a few minutes. Is that too 
great a favor to ask ? ” 

“ All things considered, you have been so docile and 
so accommodating, ” answered the Countess, with a slightly 
mocking intonation, ‘ ‘ that I can refuse you nothing ; and, 
if you make a point of it, I will request our good friends 
here to leave us. At the same time, I must warn you 
that the solitude of the Sahara would not bring us any 
nearer to one another than we are now. As far as pardon 
goes, I assure you that I do not cherish the smallest feel- 
ing of bitterness against you, though I regret to hear from 
Dr. Schott that you decline to be my friend. The truth is 
that you are absolutely pardonable in some respects and 
absolutely unpardonable in others. To the best of my 
belief, you deserve neither credit nor blame ; we are what 
we are — all of us — and we cannot make ourselves what 
we are not. That is why we are going to part, you and 
I, and that is why anything in the shape o.f a parting 
scene seems to me to be superfluous. As you please, 
however. ” 

What answer could be made to such a speech ? Douglas 
was hurt and stung by it into rejoining: “Any scene 
that you consider superfluous must be rendered superfluous 
by that fact alone. There is nothing more to be said, that 
I know of, except of course that the money which you 
were kind enough to bestow upon my sister at the time 
of the marriage must now be returned to you, I will see 
to it as soon as I reach home again,” 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


T 37 


“Let me beg of you to do nothing of the sort — or 
rather, since you do not seem to be in a mood to grant 
concessions, let me point out to you that you and your 
sister are two distinct persons. I have no quarrel with 
her ; nor, I hope, has she any with me. At all events, if 
my humble wedding-present is to be flung back in my 
face, it must be flung by her hand or her husband’s, not 
by yours. There is to be a quarrel between you and me, 
since you insist upon calling it by that name ; but I trust 
that this will not disturb my amicable relations with your 
family when I return to London, if I ever do return to 
London. And, now that I come to think of it, I have a 
house there. Are you, I wonder, cool enough to realize 
the immense advantage, from your own point of view, of 
washing our matrimonial dirty linen in secret ? ” 

“I am afraid I cannot pretend to be as cool as you 
are,’’ answered Douglas ; “still I think I may safely say 
that no degree of subsequent coldness will ever reconcile 
me to the idea that my sister is drawing a large income 
from one who refuses to be my wife any longer. I shall 
tell her what my notions of her obvious duty is, and I 
imagine that she will concur in it ; but, as you truly say, 
I am not in a position to issue commands. As for what 
you elegantly call washing our dirty linen in secret, I 
need hardly tell you that I shall not condescend to 
secrecy. I am not ashamed of myself, and I am not 
going to behave as though I were.” 

The Countess gazed at him compassionately. “Poor 
fellow ! ” she ejaculated ; “ what a hornet’s nest you are 
about to stir up ! You will outlive the annoyance, 
though, and you will have the comfort of pluming your- 
self upon your perfect integrity. After all, I don’t know 
why I should pity you.” 

Pity was certainly the very last thing that her husband 
was desirious of claiming from her. He left her presence 
and her house a few minutes later, and it cannot be 
denied that his mingled distress and anger were to some 
extent allayed by that consciousness of integrity to which 
she had referred. He had done all that he could possibly 
do ; he had gone as far as any human being with an 
atom of self-respect could go, in condoning an offence 
which he had every right to resent, and craving forgive^ 
pess for offences of which, when all was said, he had hot 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


138 

been intentionally guilty. It only remained for him to 
seek oblivion in the pursuit of an honorable career, and 
to take care that he did not break his heart for the sake 
of one who assuredly was unworthy of so tragic a tribute 
to her fascinations. 

Thus hastily was terminated an alliance which, per- 
haps, had been contracted with undue haste ; and thus, 
in all probability, would a thousand alliances terminate, 
were there a thousand ladies whose marriage vows weighed 
as lightly upon them as did those of the Countess Radna. 
Naturally, Mrs. Colborne was not a lady of that descrip- 
tion ; and deeply grieved and shocked was she when her 
son appeared unexpectedly in Elvaston Place, one even- 
ing, with the intelligence of the catastrophe which had 
come upon him. 

i ‘ This is much too dreadful to be possible ! ” was the 
comment which at once rose to her lips ; and the next 
thing that she' said was just what Douglas felt sure that 
she would say “ I do hope you haven’t told anybody 
else ? ” 

He replied that he had not as yet done so, because he 
had seen nobody else, to speak to, since his arrival in Eng- 
land, except a railway-porter, a cabman and a butler ; 
“ but,” he added, “I have no intention of concealing the 
truth, though I am not bound to proclaim it. There would 
be no object in a concealment which, at the best, could only 
be temporary ; for, dreadful as you may think my separa- 
tion from my wife, and dreadful as I myself think it, it is 
an accomplished fact. Our union could not be more com- 
pletely dissolved if one of us were dead. ” 

It took some little time to persuade Mrs. Colborne of 
the truth of the latter assertion ; and even when she seemed 
to be persuaded, she had certain mental reservations, 
resolving that she would write to her daughter-in-law and* 
explain that Douglas was hereditarily undemonstrative, 
that his affections were all the more deep and steady 
because he seldom gave verbal expression to them, and 
so forth. Meanwhile, she was very pleased to hear that 
the Countess did not wish to quarrel with her, and she 
dissented altogether from her son’s quixotic notion that 
Phyllis ought at once to surrender the dowry upon the 
strength of which she had espoused a man of small 
means, 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


J 39 


Colonel and Mrs. Percy were quite of one mind with 
her as to that, and were not unnaturally indignant with 
Douglas for having so selfishly placed them in a delicate 
position. Some subsequent correspondence passed be- 
tween them and the Countess upon the subject, and they 
did, in a half-hearted sort of way, offer to submit to the 
suggested sacrifice ; but of course the upshot of it was 
that they kept the money, while they conceived a grudge 
against the head of the Colborne family which, for the 
matter of that, they continue to harbor at the present 
day. 

Douglas, indeed, obtained very little sympathy from 
his relatives. The hero of a total fiasco cannot expect to 
be sympathized with, and a man who, after marrying one 
of the greatest heiresses and most charming women in 
Europe, is unable to induce her to live with him, must be 
admitted to have made a very bad kind of fiasco. His 
sister Loo was the only one who was really sorry for him 
and condoled with him honestly, if a trifle clumsily. 

“Ah,” she exclaimed one day, “what a thousand 
pities it is that you didn’t marry Peggy Rowley ! Peggy 
wouldn’t have picked quarrels with you ; she wouldn’t 
have wanted to drag you abroad in the middle of the 
hunting season ; she would have gone to church, like 
other people, and she would have taken an interest in the 
things that interest you. But it’s too late to think of all 
that now ! ” 

It was much too late to think of it, and not very good 
taste to speak of it. Such was the substance of Douglas’s 
rejoinder ; nevertheless, he could not help inwardly 
acknowledging that there was a good deal of truth in 
what his sister said. Not that it signified ; because he 
did not love Peggy Rowley, whereas, in spite of all that 
had happened, he did still love his wife. 


140 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE MARCHESE DI LEONFORTE. 

There are, as every naval and military commander 
knows, victories which are barely distinguishable from 
defeats, except in so far as that they confer prestige upon 
those who have achieved them. Prestige, it cannot be 
denied, is a substantial gain, if regarded as a means to- 
wards an end ; but when the end has been reached, and 
when there is nothing more to fight for, its value is apt 
to sink almost to the vanishing point. Now, the Countess 
Radna, who would doubtless have experienced the bitter 
pangs of humiliation had she been routed by her husband, 
instead of having routed him, was not the woman to exult 
in a triumph for the mere triumph’s sake ; so that when 
Douglas had departed from her without the honors of 
war, she neither crowed over him nor felt the slightest 
inclination to crow. 

“ I could not have treated him otherwise,” she said 
half-apologetically to the Baroness ; “what has happened 
now must have happened eventually ; he chose to be 
utterly impracticable, and he has only himself to thank. 
Nevertheless, it is a pity ; for he is an honest man. ” 

“It is indeed a pity!” sighed Bickenbach ; “it is a 
thousand pities ! ” 

But Dr. Schott, with one of those guttural laughs which 
can only issue from the lips of a 'German, and a fat Ger- 
man, remarked ; “ Let us not exaggerate. A thousand is 
too many ; one is enough, and that is not such a very 
great one. Admitting that this poor Mr. Colborne was 
honest, we must still recognize the fact that something 
more than honesty was required of him, and that he had 
nothing more to offer. For my own part, I have no 
hesitation in offering my most heartful congratulations to 
the gracious Countess.” 

The gracious Countess did not receive this tribute 
graciously. “ My good Doctor, ” said she, “ I hare the 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


141 

highest opinion of your medical skill, and I have no com- 
plaint to make of the manner in which you discharged the 
commission that I entrusted to you this afternoon ; but as 
for your congratulations, you would do better to reserve 
them until you understand to some extent what you are 
talking about — which is another way of saying that you 
had better reserve them eternally. Be satisfied with con- 
gratulating yourself. You always hated my husband, 
you always disliked being put upon half-pay ; now, with- 
out any effort of your own, you have got rid of the person 
whom you hated and the thing that you disliked. I don't 
forbid you to dance and sing, only I must request that 
you will draw a decent veil over your glee while I am 
present, because I don't see anything pretty in such 
exhibitions. ” 

It was not often that she spoke insolently to her depend- 
ents ; but when she did so they usually slunk away from 
her sight in silence, knowing full well that she was in a 
dangerous mood and that a retort might easily provoke 
their instant dismissal. Dr. Schott, who was rather in the 
habit of bullying his august patient, did not venture to 
bully her now, but left the room without another word. 
Later in the evening, however, he indemnified himself for 
his previous self-control by remarking sardonically to 
Bickenbach : 

“What a funny farce we have been playing amongst 
us ! The Countess flatters herself that she knows how to 
conceal her feelings ; but if that Englishman had not been 
as dense as Englishmen always are, he would have dis- 
covered that she has not overcome her infatuation yet. 
She was ready'to scratch my eyes out because I congratu- 
lated her upon a success which she has already begun to 
regret. Yet she will never forgive him j for she is too 
proud to take the first step, and he is too stupid. And if, 
by an impossibility, they were reconciled, they would 
quarrel again within a month. What a farce, my dear 
Baroness ! What a farce ! ” 

“ It may turn to a tragedy ,' 4 observed the good Bicken- 
bach gravely and sadly. 

“That is possible, although the tragedy will not be of 
the kind that you contemplate. Shall I let you into a little 
medical secret ? Nobody ever dies of disappointed love ; 
but many people, who have not strong constitutions, 
worry and excite themselves until the disease which is 


142 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


always waiting for them sees its opportunity and carries 
them off. The Countess has a weak constitution ; she 
is going to worry herself ; she is going to do all that she 
can to excite herself ; and that is why she has done well 
to provide herself with a physician. You will see that I 
shall earn my wages before the winter is over. ” 

This anticipatory diagnosis was not wanting in shrewd- 
ness ; but the Doctor was mistaken in supposing that the 
Countess had already begun to regret her success. She 
was not jubilant, but she was really relieved to be once 
more her own mistress ; she was really convinced that 
(as she had said to Bickenbach) what had happened must 
have happened eventually, and she was almost convinced 
that she had not a spark of love left for her husband. On 
the foregoing evening she had felt rather differently ; but 
the readiness with which he had submitted to her condi- 
tions, and the absence of anything approaching passion in 
- his perfunctory protests, had put the finishing touch to a 
mental portrait of him upon which she had been engaged 
for some time past. He was, no doubt, an honest, well- 
meaning man ; but neither in his affections nor in his 
purposes was there that strength which she had mistakenly 
ascribed to him when she had fancied that she could 
bow to his rule. There was nothing for it, as matters had 
fallen out, but to close that chapter and to begin a fresh one. 

In the course of the Countess Radna’s life there had been 
many chapters. None of them had been quite so serious 
as the last ; still some had looked serious enough dans le 
temps , while all had been relegated without much trouble 
to that softened background of memory whither she now 
proposed to despatch Douglas Colborne. The difficulty, 
of course, was to find some fresh interest in life, and, as 
she journeyed south, she frankly acknowledged to herself 
that the hiring of a villa at Nice was not a particularly 
promising or original start to have made. Nevertheless, 
there are possibilities connected with almost every situa- 
tion — unless, indeed, that of the chatelaine of an English 
country house be counted as a possible situation — so that 
when she took possession of her new quarters, she was 
not only exhilarated by the warmth, the sunshine and the 
luxuriant vegetation of a climate more highly favored than 
that of the British Isles, but was persuaded that she would 
contrive to get some enjoyment, or pseudo-enjoyment, 
out of the materials which lay ready to her hand. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


*43 


• The materials, it was true, were not novel, consisting-, 
as they did, in that species of cosmopolitan society with 
which experience had rendered her only too familiar ; yet 
although these people might be generically wearisome, 
there was a chance of their proving less so in isolated cases, 
and the Countess, following half-un consciously the bent 
of her temperament, set to work without loss of time to 
seek for isolated cases. It is needless to say that her house 
was besieged from the very first moment that she entered 
it. She had an immense acquaintance ; wherever she 
went, she was tolerably sure of meeting a host of people 
whom she knew. Her arrival at Nice was at once bruited 
abroad, and it also became known in a surprisingly short 
space of time that the husband whom she had chosen 
had not proved sufficiently cosmopolitan in his ways 
to suit her. However, the gilded youths, Parisian and 
other, who hastened to leave their cards at her door 
made a very great mistake in leaping to the conclusion 
which they deemed appropriate to the circumstances. It 
was not their waxed mustaches, their carefully trimmed 
and pointed beards, their varnished boots, or their mincing 
manners that were likely to find favor in her eyes, nor did 
she treat them with any more ceremony than she had been 
wont to bestow upon them in days gone by. She enter- 
tained them, as well as the ladies who were to all intents 
and purposes their counterparts ; she spent her money 
freely, as of yore, and she soon became the leading person- 
age in a coterie which had a right to call itself aristocratic ; 
but amongst the throng of admirers, rivals, friends and 
enemies which speedily gathered round her she looked in 
vain for a single individual whose friendship appeared to 
show any promise of repaying cultivation. The best part 
of the winter passed away without having brought her 
what she wanted — which, to be sure, was the less surprising 
because she had no definite idea of what it was that she 
did want. 

Bickenbach got into sad disgrace by timidly suggesting, 
one fine morning, that her patroness might be pining for 
news from England. The Countess, who for some time 
had been ailing and depressed, turned upon her instantly 
with a request that, if she could not help being a perfect 
imbecile, she would at least refrain from talking like one. 

“ Do you suppose, " she asked, ‘ ‘ that if I felt the slightest 
curiosity to learn how Mr. Colborne is amusing himself, 


144 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


I couldn't gratify it? As it happens, I have received, and 
continue to receive, numerous — far too numerous — letters 
from his mother. Judging by what she tells me, and by 
what I have noticed in the English newspapers, I should 
say that he was amusing himself very well indeed. Much 
better than I am, par exemple J” 

The Baroness shed a few of the tears which were always 
at her command, and apologized humbly for her indiscre- 
tion. “It was only because I can see that you are not 
happy, dear Countess Helene/’ she explained. 

“ My good Bickenbach, can you, with your hand upon 
your heart, say that you have ever seen me happy since 
the age of fourteen ? And even then you used to do your 
best to destroy my happiness by giving me a holiday as 
often as I chose to ask for it. You would excuse my being 
peevish occasionally if you would consider how hard my 
case is. All my life I have suffered from the incurable 
complaint of obtaining everything that I have wished for. 
If there were something that I couldn’t afford to buy, or 
if there were somebody who would kindly refuse to be 
introduced to me, I daresay I might recover my spirits. ” 
The Baroness knew, but was afraid to say, that there 
are many things which cannot be purchased ; what she 
did not know, and would never have guessed, was that at 
that same moment there was actually an individual in Nice 
who had made up his mind that he would decline to be 
presented to the Countess Radna. The Countess was, at 
the time, equally ignorant of the existence of so strange a 
being ; but she was made aware of it no later than on the 
morrow in a fashion which both interested and diverted her. 
Until then she had scarcely noticed, and had only bestowed 
a passing thought or two upon the Marchese di Leonforte, 
a tall, handsome, olive-complexioned Sicilian nobleman 
whom she had met perhaps a dozen times in public and in 
private. Once or twice at the theatre she had found his 
great black eyes fixed upon her, and, after she had returned 
his gaze for a second, he had continued to stare at her with 
that melancholy persistency which, for some reason or 
other, does not seem to partake of rudeness when practised 
by Italians. She had divined that he was a little smitten 
with her, but had been in no way moved by a discovery 
to which she was thoroughly accustomed, nor had it oc- 
curred to her to request an introduction which "there was 
no reason to doubt that he could obtain if he desired it. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


*45 

Chancing, however, upon this occasion to encounter him 
at a large afternoon reception given by a Russian princess, 
and observing that he had, as usual, begun to contemplate 
her from afar, she bethought her that it might possibly be 
amusing to ask him what he meant by it. Accordingly 
she turned to one of the little Parisian dandies who had 
stationed themselves by her side and said : 

“You know the Marchese di Leonforte, do you not? 
Bring him to me. I should like to make his acquaintance 
and condole with him, for he looks almost as bored as I 
feel. ” 

The little dandy flew to do her bidding, but returned 
presently with an embarrassed air and a somewhat 
incoherent apology. The Marchese, it appeared, had felt 
profoundly honored, but had respectfully begged to be 
excused. He was not going much into society ; he did 
not propose to remain long at Nice ; he would not have 
shown himself at the present gathering but for the circum- 
stance that the Princess was an old friend ; in a word, no 
pretexts could have been more lame, and the Countess’s 
perturbed envoy did not better them much by adding : 

“Leonforte is an original — one might almost say a sav- 
age. Bon gargon, au fond , beau joueur , and a horseman of 
the most intrepid, but absolutely without tenue. It has to 
be remembered that he is an Italian — a Sicilian even. He 
is not like the rest of the world.” 

“ He has just given convincing proof of that,” remarked 
the Countess, laughing, and not at all offended. “Never- 
theless, I am sure he cannot have meant to insult me ; so 
please go back and tell him that I insist.” 

The result of this second mission — which, indeed, could- 
hardly have resulted in a second failure — was that a gen- 
tleman, who, however devoid he might be of tenue in the 
Parisian sense of that term, did not at least seem to be 
easily put out of countenance, was led up to the Countess, 
and, after making his bow, offered a grave apology for 
the breach of good manners of which he had been guilty. 

“ I could not flatter myself, madame,” said he, “that 
you would waste another thought upon one so insignifi- 
cant as myself ; I did not reflect for the moment that I 
was bound to treat your gracious intimation as a com- 
mand. Is it permitted to me to hope that you will add 
to your kindness and condescension by pardoning my 
gaucherie r> ” 

io 


146 


T. HE COUNTESS RADNA . 


He spoke deliberately, in a low-pitched voice, and his 
French was fairly good, though it was evident that he was 
not quite at home in that language. The Countess, who 
answered him with a good deal less of formality than he 
had displayed, was unable to break through the barriers 
of his distant, deferential politeness ; nor could she help 
feeling a little' snubbed by his obvious anxiety to retire as 
soon as she should have satisfied her curiosity. It was 
so novel a sensation to her to be snubbed by anybody 
that, after she had sustained an interchange of meaning- 
less observations for five minutes or so, she moved away 
from the pricked-up ears of her satellites towards an inner 
room, making a sign, as she did so, to the Italian which 
he could not disobey. As soon as they were practically 
alone, she said, in reply to a question which he had not 
put : 

“Oh, no; it is not because you are the handsomest 
man here, nor even because you wear a sorrowful and 
mysterious aspect ; pray don't allow any ideas of that sort 
to enter your mind. But you will allow that it is natural 
on my part to wonder why you were so unwilling to be 
presented to me.” 

He answered, with perfect composure, “Madame, it 
would be impossible to tell you.” 

“Why would it be impossible ? ” 

“Because, when I speak frankly, I have the habit of 
using a frankness which would be incomprehensible and 
probably offensive to you. If the kindness which you 
have already shown me might embolden me to ask a 
favor of you, it would be that you should permit me to 
withdraw again into the obscurity out of which you have 
deigned to summon me for a moment.” 

“And I who was about to request that you would 
honor my poor garden-party to-morrow by attending it ! 
Come, Monsieur le Marquis, you are neither as humble 
nor as obscure as you choose to pretend, and I suspect 
that you would be rather disappointed if I were to take 
you at your word. On my side, I admit that I should be 
inconsolable if I were to lose sight of you before you had 
explained yourself. Shall we postpone the confession 
until we are a little better acquainted ? That will give you 
time to satisfy yourself that I like frankness, that I am not 
abnormally dull of comprehension and that I am not 
easily offended. ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


J 47 


The mysterious Italian hesitated and, for a minute or 
so, gazed frowningly at the carpet His rejoinder, when 
at length it came, was somewhat startling and unconven- 
tional. “ Madame, I will take the liberty to give you at 
once a specimen of my frankness. Histories have been 
related to me about you which I do not like ; it is said 
that you have a husband in England, and that you have 
separated yourself from him without any of the reasons 
which are commonly considered sufficient. Can you 
figure to yourself that I am primitive to be repelled by 
such levity? and can you bear to listen to such an avowal 
without taking offence ? ” 

The Countess colored slightly. The avowal was cer- 
tainly very unlike that which she had anticipated, and she 
was, in truth, offended by it ; but she felt that it would 
be too humiliating to acknowledge herself offended by a 
rebuke which she had invited, so she returned, with a smile : 

“You make it absolutely essential for me to be better 
acquainted with you. Since you are so primitive, you 
cannot deny the right of the accused to be heard in her 
own defence, because that is one of the first principles of 
primitive justice, and I daresay you will also allow that 
this is neither the time nor the place for prolonged ex- 
planations. By saying what you have said, you have 
at least committed yourself to appearing at my tedious 
entertainment to-morrow.” 

The Marchese responded by a solemn bow and took 
advantage of the entrance of his hostess, who wished to 
present some stranger or other to the Countess Radna, to 
effect his retreat. 

The Countess was thus left in ’ some uncertainty as to 
whether he intended to obey her behest or not ; but on 
the following afternoon he duly appeared amongst her 
other guests, and very glad she was to catch sight of 
his sombre countenance ; for, as may be imagined, the 
remarks which he had permitted himself to make had given 
her something to think about. 

“Tell me,” said she, when she had drawn him away to 
a comparatively secluded part of the shady garden which 
she temporarily owned, “ are you a religious fanatic? ” 

He replied in his slow, measured accents : “ Madame, 
I am a Catholic, like my ancestors, I dare not affirm that 
I am a good Catholic, if that is what you understand by a 
fanatic, ” 


148 


THE CO UNTESS RADNA. 


“Oh, it is quite practicable to remain a good Catholic 
and to indulge discreetly in menus plaisirs — such as 
gambling, for example. That is well known. What I 
mean is, are you fanatical enough to regard a contract of 
marriage as a sacrament, and those who violate it as 
monsters of iniquity ? If so, 1 am a monster ; and it only 
remains for me to apologize for my audacity in having 
ventured to thrust my acquaintance upon a saint. ” 

The Marchese di Leonforte was not precisely a saint, 
but he really was something of a fanatic, andhe could not 
look upon marriage as a mere civil contract which might 
be repudiated at will. After a few seconds of uneasy 
silence he said : 

“ Madame la Comtesse, I have neither the pretension 
nor the presumption to judge you.” 

“ Oh, but I thought that the privilege of judging me 
was just what you claimed. At all events you gave 
your judgment and condemnation of me yesterday as 
reasons for your reluctance to have anything to do with 
me.” 

“I spoke too hastily, and I should have done better to 
keep silence. All sorts of lies are repeated and circulated ; 
it may not be through any fault of yours that you are 
living apart from your husband— what do I know ? The 
truth is that I had other reasons which it would be out of 
the question for me to intrude upon your notice.” 

‘ ‘ A simple antipathy, then ? ” 

“ If it pleases you to call it by that name. In any case, 
I must respectfully decline, to join the band of young 
men who run errands for you and kiss your hands, and 
boast behind your back' of favors which have assuredly 
not been conferred upon them. I am not made of that 
material.” 

“ Would you not have done well,” asked the Countess, 
blandly, ‘ ‘ to wait for an invitatioh before spurning it ? 
I am obliged to you, however, for your charming candor, 
and the least that I can do in return is to grant you an 
immediate and unconditional release.” 

With that she turned and left him. Of course, his 
meaning was no longer a mystery to her ; of course she 
understood that he had fallen in love with her ; and, since 
he chose to be so serious and tragic over it, no doubt the 
best way of treating him was to send him about his 
business. All the same, she would have liked to convince 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . I49 

him that she was not what he took her for ; because, 
although it is not disagreeable to be loved, it is decidedly 
disagreeable to be despised. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE COUNTESS GAINS A CHAMPION. 

If there was one thing of which the Countess Radna 
felt more certain than of another, it was that this slightly 
melodramatic Italian, whom she had so innocently cap- 
tivated, would call upon her before many days were past. 
Consequently, she was surprised, and even a trifle piqued, 
by his failure to justify reasonable anticipation* in that 
respect. She did not, of course, care two straws about the 
man ; he was welcome to adore her, welcome to forget her, 
and welcome to adopt any line of conduct that might seem 
to him appropriate to the circumstances ; only he ought to 
have understood that there are certain forms and ceremo- 
nies Which are obligatory upon all well-bred people, and 
she was irritated with him for ignoring them. 

Her mental attitude as regarded the world at large was, 
in fact, at that time, one of irritation, and she was no 
adept at disguising her sentiments. Bickenbach caught 
it, and so did Dr. Schott ; the former melting into tears 
under verbal castigation, while the latter only smoked his 
pipe, shrugged his fat shoulders and chuckled. Dr. Schott 
thought that he knew very well what was the matter, and 
confided the outcome of his knowledge and experience to 
his fellow-sufferer. 

“ I foresaw this phase/' said he, with the tranquil toler- 
ation of a competent medical adviser. “I foresaw that 
she would lament the husband whom she has dismissed 
and -that she would be astonished at him for neither 
returning to her nor writing to her. Fortunately for her 
(because, indeed, she was quite right to dismiss him), he 
is too phlegmatic to return or to write. He has accepted 
the situation, and very soon she will accept it also, though 
she did not, perhaps, intend it to be permanent when sl\e 
created it. It is, after all, a mere question of a rempla^ani. ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


I 5° 

The cynicism of the Doctor reposed, as cynicism for 
the most part does, upon a partial comprehension of his 
patient’s character. The Countess was by no means the 
silly, vain, spoilt child that he set her down as being ; and 
if she was vexed — as $he certainly was — by Douglas’s - 
apparent resignation to his fate, that was not because she 
was conscious of any desire to beckon him back, or be- 
cause she repented of the declaration of independence to 
which she had committed herself. She could not and 
would not live with him again ; she would instantly have 
repudiated any overtures that might have been made on 
his part ; only she had secretly expected that overtures 
would be made, and the letters which reached her every 
now and again from England, describing the cheerfulness 
with which he had resumed his accustomed round of 
duties and pleasures, were not altogether pleasant reading 
to her. Perhaps the least pleasant portion of them was 
that which referred to his intimacy with Miss Rowley. 

It might be natural and inevitable that his thoughts, after 
he had found himself finally severed from the woman whom 
he had once loved, should revert to the woman with 
whom it would have been so much wiser for him to fall 
in love ; but, considering the lofty moral standpoint which 
he had been wont to arrogate to himself and the inviolable 
sanctity which he had always claimed for a ceremony per- 
formed by^ one of the, priests of his religion, there was 
surely something that savored of indecency and hypoc- 
risy in the promptitude with which he had rushed to Miss 
Rowley’s so-called friendship for consolation. For the 
rest, all men were like that, and Douglas Colborne was 
but an ordinary man. Indeed, if he had been less hope- 
lessly ordinary, the impossibility of enduring him as a 
lifelong companion would not have been so obvious. 

Now, she herself, for her weal or for her woe, was not 
ordinary ; and that was one of the many reasons which 
forbade her to look out for what the Doctor, in his crude 
Teutonic fashion, call a remplacant. She did not believe 
in Christianity, or in any other form of revealed religion ; 
she could not see why bonds which had grown irksome, 
and which united a childless husband and wife, should 
not be broken ; but, for all that, it was out of her power 
to forget that she had bestowed her love upon one man, 
and she would have felt lowered in her self-esteem had 
she been capable of transferring it to another. Since one 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


T 5* 

must needs (owing to the frailty of one’s mortal nature) 
worship a fetish of one kind or another, self-esteem may 
easily be made to serve the necessary purpose ; and every- 
body will admit that the Marchese di Leonforte, by 
neglecting an elementary duty of civilized man, had been 
guilty of a serious want of respect to the Countess’s fetish. 

It was of this that she was thinking one sunny after- 
noon, when she had -betaken herself and her discontent to 
an arbor at the end of her garden, which commanded a 
prospect of the dusty road, the dusty tamarisks and aloes 
and the expanse of blue sea beyond. She was weary of 
that calm, tideless sea, weary of the sunshine, weary of 
the glaring high-road, and more especially weary of the 
people who, from time to time, rolled along it in their 
carriages. Some of them turned in at her gates, drove up 
to her door and were sent away ; she had made up her 
mind to see nobody for a week — unless, perchance, it 
might be a certain ill-mannered Italian nobleman who 
apparently had no intention of exposing himself to the risk 
of a possible rebuff. 

But while she sat there, gazing with lack-lustre eyes 
upon a scene which she had almost resolved to quit, there 
came within the field of. her vision an equestrian who 
seemed to be having some trouble with his big black horse, 
and in whom, as he drew nearer, she recognized the 
offending Marchese. Was he coming to call at last ? She 
raised herself from her recumbent attitude, and, with a 
dawning smile upon her lips, watched his progress ; but 
she was not destined to discover whether this would or 
would not have eventually led him to the iron gates which 
gave access to her villa, for, just as he had reached a 
point immediately beneath her, two heated individuals 
on bicycles raced past and caused his horse to plunge 
violently. Perhaps his patience had already been tried ; 
perhaps his courage as a rider was in excess of his skill ; 
anyhow, a battle ensued which terminated disastrously 
for him. 

The Countess looked down upon the fight with an 
agreeable mixture of amusement, excitement and anxiety. 
She did not want the cavalier who had treated her so 
cavalierly to be hurt ; but she would not very much have 
minded seeing him rolled in the dust, provided that no 
bones were broken in the process ; also she noted that, 
abhough he stuck firmly to his saddle, he had lost his 


5 2 


TIIE COUNTESS RADNA. 


temper. Douglas, she remembered, had never been wont 
to lose his temper with a horse : and the superiority of the 
Englishman over the Italian in that respect was, for some 
reason or other, a source of gratification to her. She had, 
however, but a brief space of time in which to draw com- 
parisons, for the little drama which was being enacted 
beneath her was soon played out, and its termination was 
of a nature to resolve all her feeling^ into sheer terror and 
dismay. Few sights are more sickening to witness than 
that of a rearing horse who falls back, or is pulled back, 
upon its rider. It may have been the Marchese di Leon- 
forte’s own fault that this accident happened to him ; but 
the Countess was not cold-blooded enough to make such 
a reflection when, after the lapse of a few seconds, during 
which she had involuntarily closed her eyes, she saw the 
unfortunate man lying prostrate and senseless on the 
hard road, his horse, who had struggled up, standing by 
his side with dilated nostrils and quivering limbs. 

She rushed into the house, summoned the men-servants, 
told some of them to carry down a mattress at once, and 
then, attended by others, hurried back to the scene of the 
catastrophe. Quick as she was about it, a small crowd 
had already collected and an empty carriage had been 
stopped, into which the lifeless or unconscious body was 
about to be lifted. 

“ The poor gentleman is not quite dead, ” one of the 
bystanders told her, “but he will scarcely live to reach 
the hospital. It seems that his horse must have rolled 
over him ; for he is crushed — crushed flat, like my hand ! ” 

The speaker emphasized his words by stretching out a 
broad dirty palm and slapping his fingers down upon it. 
The Countess imperiously motioned to him to stand 
aside. 

“This gentleman is a friend of mine,” said she. “ He 
is not to be taken to the hospital ; he is to be carried into 
my house, where I have a doctor who will attend to him. 
If any of you want to be of use, you may go into the 
town as fast as you can and send me a surgeon.” 

She had good blood in her veins, and it came quite 
naturally to her to take the command in a case of emer- 
gency. The sight of a dead or dying man did not cause 
her to lose her nerve ; nor did she think it worth while to 
make any answer to the entreaties of Dr. Schott, who was 
soon upon the spot and who implored her to withdrr ' TT 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


*53 


and compose herself. She was perfectly composed ; she 
superintended the transport of the luckless Marcfrese into 
the bedroom which had been hastily prepared to receive 
him ; she rendered some assistance during the examina- 
tion of his injuries which ensued, and she listened, with- 
out visible emotion, to the undecided verdict pronounced 
at length by her medical adviser. 

“There is concussion of the brain and there are some 
broken ribs,” Dr. Schott said, raising himself from the bed 
over which he had been stooping. “What internal mis- 
chief there may be it is impossible to tell as yet ; but the 
chances are against him. Probably I shall be able to speak 
more definitely in a few hours and after a consultation 
with my confreres ; for the present I think you can do 
nothing better than to send for a trained nurse and leave 
the patient to me.” 

The Countess obeyed. As a general rule she did obey 
Dr. Schott when he addressed her in his professional capa- 
city ; besides, she was becoming sensible of the reaction 
that necessarily succeeds such a demand upon the reserve 
forces of self-control as that to which she had been sub- 
jected. She went downstairs and had a talk with Bicken- 
bach, who, of course, was agitated and helpless ; then, 
after a prolonged interval, she received a whole gang of 
physicians and surgeons, who informed her, with dignified 
circumlocution, that they had no clear information to give, 
but who upon the whole, were inclined to hope that the 
Marchese’s condition, though critical, was not desperate. 
They sincerely regretted that they could not sanction the 
immediate removal of the sufferer ; they feared that the 
Countess must be inconvenienced by his presence for some 
time to come — unless, indeed, he should relieve her of it 
by giving up the ghost — and, after acknowledging by a 
murmur of respectful admiration her assurance that the 
question was not one of her personal convenience or 
inconvenience, they professed themselves unable to say 
how she could be of use to him, except by telegraphing 
for his nearest relations. 

This was obviously the proper thing to do, and the 
Countess would have done it forthwith if she had had the 
faintest idea of who his nearest relations were or where 
they were to be found. She had herself driven at once to 
his hotel, but could gain no light from his valet, who was 
a Frenchman and had only recently entered his service, 


54 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


After that, she sought out the young Parisian who had 
introduced him to her and the Russian lady at whose house 
the introduction had taken place ; thus eventually arriving 
at the not unwelcome discovery that he had no near rela- 
tions at all. He was, it appeared, an only child and an 
orphan 7 he might possibly have uncles and aunts and 
cousins, but the Russian lady had never heard him men- 
tion them, while she had often heard him lament his lone- 
liness in the world. 

“ If the poor young man is going to die, that is a consol- 
ation,” she remarked ; “but what a terrible thing for you, 
dear Countess, to have him dying in your house ! ” 

The Countess appreciated the value of the consolation, 
and did not find her plight nearly so terrible as her sym- 
pathizer would have done. It would be very sad, no doubt, 
if the Marchese were doomed to die*; but if he should 
recover, the task of aiding his recovery would give her 
just that degree of temporary interest in life for which she 
had been sighing ; so that he would really have conferred 
the greatest imaginable benefit upon her by smashing him- 
self up at her door. 

And it so fell out that he did recover. The first thing 
that she heard on her return home was that he had par- 
tially regained consciousness ; the night passed without the 
manifestation of any alarming symptoms; and although 
several days elapsed before the doctors ventured to pro- 
nounce him out of danger, they were finally in a position 
to do so, and at the same time to express their profound 
sense of the indefatigable care and kindness to which, 
according to them, the existence of this happy state of 
things must be chiefly ascribed. 

The Countess was accustomed to compliments of that 
description, and accepted them for what they were worth. 
Nobody would have thought of praising or thanking her if 
she had not been a rich woman ; nor, as a matter of fact, 
had she done much for her charge during the critical period 
of his illness, except to spend money on his behalf. But 
as soon as convalescence set in she came to the front and 
reaped the reward which, perhaps, others had earned. He 
was very grateful, very simple and very like an over-grown 
child in his helplessness — this big, rather stern-featured 
man, with whom, as his senses and his strength began to 
return to him, she sat talking for an hour or so every day. 
He soon told her all, or almost all, that there was to be 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


*55 

told about his uneventful history. He had extensive, if 
not highly remunerative, estates ; he was devoid of re- 
sponsibilities and ambitions ; he had made a vigorous, but 
hitherto unsuccessful, effort to amuse himself by gambling, 
steeplechasing and frequenting company which is usually 
esteemed to be more amusing than edifying ; upon the 
whole he did not think that it would have mattered very 
much if he had fractured his skull instead of giving it a 
smart blow, on the afternoon that she knew of. 

“ I am not sure, dear madame,” said he, one day, with 
a faint smile, "that you have done me a service by 
restoring my useless life to me ; but it is certain that most 
people would think so, and that I can never hope to repay 
your kindness to me. If, however, by some miracle, 
a time should come when you had need of me, you would 
not have to call me twice.” 

He made several speeches to that effect, and they were 
not displeasing to her, though she laughed at them, 
assuring him that he had nothing in the world to thank 
her for. Long use and wont had taught her that genuine 
gratitude is very rarely to be met with, and she was 
under no illusion as to the true cause of this naif Italian’s 
devotion to her ; yet there was something about his 
devotion and his mode of expressing it which was touching, 
and which appealed to her sympathies. It was neither 
her fault nor his that he had conceived for her one of 
those passions which she had the best reasons for believing 
to be in all cases ephemeral ; his infatuation aroused no 
responsive echo in her own breast ; only she liked him, 
and she thought that he might possibly be made a little 
happier for the time being if it could be demonstrated to 
him that he had judged her somewhat too harshly at the 
outset. 

With this benevolent end in view, she repaid his con- 
fidences at length by relating a portion of her personal 
history to him, and, of course, the history of her married 
life, as she related it, was essentially false. Is there any- 
where on earth an aggrieved person who can speak truth- 
fully or impartially of his or her grievance ? The Countess 
did not mean to be untruthful ; she took such blame to 
herself as she honestly imagined to attach to her, and 
she expressly acquitted her husband of any sin more 
heinous than that of placid selfishness ; but she contrived 
to draw a ‘portrait of Douglas Colborne which caused her 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


! 5 6 

bedridden hearer to grind his white teeth with rage and 
to implore, in terms of the deepest contrition, her pardon 
for his baseness in having ever listened to calumnies now 
so amply disproved. 

“As soon as I am well again I will find that vile rascal 
out and kill him for you, ” said he, in as matter-of-course a 
tone as if he had been merely offering to rid her of an 
obnoxious cat or rat. 

But the Countess laughingly declined to sanction the 
summary method of avenging her wrongs. “ I believe 
you are capable of acting as you say,” she replied ; “but, 
unfortunately, Englishmen do not fight duels ; and if 
murder is not yet out of date in Sicily, it is quite in- 
admissible in other parts of Europe. You are pleased to 
assert that I have saved your life ; so you may imagine 
how disconsolate I should be if you were to recompense 
me for my trouble by making a present of it to the hang- 
man. Pray do not run away with the idea that I am dis- 
consolate because I have a husband who is no more incon- 
solable than I am ; my sole object in wearying you with 
a commonplace narrative was to peisuade you that I did 
not, after all, leave my husband and my adopted country 
without some excuse. From the moment that you admit 
that, there is no more to be said upon the subject — and 
we will say no more.” 

'The subject was dropped for the moment; but, of 
course, it was resumed, and was dwelt upon at great 
length in subsequent conversations which might be found 
a trifle tedious if reported, but which were full of interest 
to the two persons engaged in them. These daily and 
prolonged conversations, although they provoked the 
.sarcastic wit of Dr. Schott, were not in reality of a nature 
to cause an instant’s disquietude to him or to Bickenbach. 
The latest addition to the list of the Countess’s victims 
was strictly decorous and punctilious in his behavior 
towards her ; if he betrayed the state of his feelings a 
dozen times a day, he was at least careful to avoid doing 
so by words of mouth ; while she, on her side, gave him 
no sort of encouragement. Nevertheless, she liked the 
man ; his sympathy and his championship were pleasant 
to her, and she was very sorry when the time came for 
him to quit the shelter of her roof. 

It was necessary that he should go as soon as he could 
safely be moved ; that tribute to the prejudices of a censo- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


157 


rious world could hardly be evaded, and the Countess told 
him candidly that, situated as she was, she felt unable to 
offer him the hospitality which she would fain have offered. 
She thought, however, that — since he was ordered to be 
as much as possible in the open air and to avoid exertion — 
there could be no harm in his driving up from his hotel 
whenever he felt disposed to do so and resting for a while 
in her garden. Thus it came to pass that the Marchese 
di Leonforte continued to spend his afternoons with her, 
and that the little world which was watching them with 
eager and inquisitive eyes began to look forward cheer- 
fully to a scandal. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Douglas’s confidants. 

Every adult is aware — because every adult has been 
made acquainted with the fact by more or less painful 
experience — that there exists some subtle difference 
between the sexes which precludes the one from ever 
arriving at a full or confident understanding, of the other. 
We know, or think we know, broadly speaking, what 
feminine characteristics are ; women also probably 
flatter themselves that our own foibles and peculiarities 
are not hidden from them : yet when complications arise, 
the old insuperable difficulty does not fail to present itself 
nor can conflicts be averted or harmony restored save by 
concessions on both sides' of which neither side can really 
perceive the reasonableness. Douglas Colborne was 
humble enough to acknowledge that he had been guilty 
of stupidity and mismanagement in his relations with his 
wife ; but he had offered to concede all that he could 
possibly concede, and he would have been too proud to 
stoop to entreaties even if he had believed that entreaties 
were likely to be of the slightest avail. What he said to 
himself was that he must make up his mind to a future 
of quasi-celibacy and remember that a man may do good 
work and enjoy himself tolerably well in the world with- 
out the solace of domestic sympathies. What he secretly 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


* 5 « 

and unconsciously hoped was that his mothers correspon- 
dence with He'lene (to reports of which he absolutely 
declined to listen) might eventually bring about a recon- 
ciliation towards which it was out of the question for him 
to make the first step. 

Meanwhile, life at Stoke Leighton was desperately dull 
and lonely. His mother offered to come and keep him 
company ; but he begged her not to leave London, declar- 
ing that he was better alone for the present, and being, in 
fact, actuated by a strong wish to keep the true state of 
affairs secret as long as might be. It had been announced 
that the Countess had gone abroad for her health ; the 
existence of a quarrel was perhaps not suspected ; at any 
rate, no questions were put to him upon the subject, so 
that he was spared the painful necessity of making vera- 
cious statements. Veracious statements, however, must 
needs be made to somebody by a distressed man, unless 
he be also an abnormally reticent man, and Douglas did 
not scruple to relieve his mind by making a frank confes- 
sion of his troubles to so trustworthy a friend and neigh- 
bor as Miss Peggy Rowley. Indeed, if he had wanted to 
hold his tongue, he would have been unable to do so ; for 
it did not take her long to guess what had happened, nor 
did she allow herself to be restrained by any sentiments 
of false delicacy from taxing him with a lack of dexterity 
to which he was fain to plead guilty. 

“It will all come right in the end/’ she assured him 
more than once ; “but that end isn't quite yet. If you 
hadn’t been rather a goose, this catastrophe would never 
have occurred ; only since it has occurred, you can do 
nothing except submit and possess your soul in patience. 
By all means let her see that you can get on pretty well 
without her ; a day may come when she will find that she 
can’t get on so very well without you.” 

And when Douglas shook his head, remarking that his 
wife had given ample evidence of her ability and desire 
to lead her own life in her own way, this skilled adviser 
of his laughed and asked whether he had expected that 
evidence of a contrary description would be submitted to 
him. Peggy was not precisely sympathetic, but she was 
kindly and shrewd and she seemed to him to be just ; so that 
it was a comfort to him to converse with her. It may be 
hoped that he would have been even more grateful to her 
than he was, had he for a moment surmised that she was 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


J 59 

in reality strongly and indignantly on his side and that 
she thought the Countess Radna a thoroughly detestable 
woman ; but. she gave utterance to no words which could 
be interpreted in that sense. She was, as he often said to 
himself, without knowing all the excellent reasons that he 
had for saying so, a true friend ; she gave him the best of 
good advice ; she did what she could to enliven his solitude; 
she took care to keep him up to the mark in the matter of 
his political duties, and it was at her instance that he 
invited young Frank Innes to come down and stay with 
him soon after Christmas. 

Peggy Rowley had ' found out — it is what we are all 
destined to find out in the long run, though it takes some 
of us a lifetime to make the discovery — that there is no 
better way of escape from the contemplation of one's own *, 
misfortunes than to get up an interest in the fortunes or 
misfortunes of other people ; and as Frank Innes was 
very young, very fresh and very full of himself, it was 
not difficult for Douglas Colborne to become interested in 
him. He had always liked the boy, he had always been 
anxious to give him a helping hand, and of late it had 
several times occurred to him that, in view of possible con- 
tingencies, he ought to nominate somebody as his heir. 
Since he had no son, nor any prospect of having one, 
Frank seemed to be the person appointed by destiny and 
propriety to succeed him ; but he was not so imprudent 
as to raise hopes which, after all, might never be realized. 
He confined himself to executing the necessary testament 
and good-humoredly throwing cold water upon the young 
fellow's projects, which were imparted to him without 
reserve, and which struck him as being a trifle fantastic. 

“ It is all very well to have a pretty voice," he remarked, 
“and if you care about that sort of thing, I daresay it isn't 
bad fun to show your voice off at evening parties and to 
be patted on the back by musical ladies — but from that to 
obtaining a lucrative engagement at Covent Garden is a 
longish step. If I were you, I should stick to my Govern- 
ment clerkship, which may easily lead to something better 
even if it doesn’t hold out a prospect of boundless wealth. 
Just think of the hundreds and thousands of would-be pro- 
fessionals who are being carefully trained every year and 
thank your stars that you won't be deprived of bread and 
butter by remaining a successful amateur.’ 

‘ ‘ The Countess wasn’t of your way of thinking, " returned 


i6o 


THE COUNTESS. RADNA . 


Frank; “she said — and I believe she was right — that I 
should be an awful duffer if I didn't turn my natural gifts 
to account. And a genuine tenor voice, mind you, is a 
gift which isn’t granted to everybody. Oh, no ; the Count- 
ess didn’t agree with you at all there.” 

“The Countess,” observed Douglas, dryly, “didn’t agree 
with me upon a good many points.” 

“Well — so they say ; and I’ll be hanged if I can make 
out what it’s all about ! To tell you the truth, that’s why 
I mentioned her. Look here, Douglas ; this disagreement 
isn’t going to be serious, is it ? Because, you know, it really 
oughtn’t to be ; it’s bound to be a mistake of some kind. ” 

“Who told you that there had been a disagreement? 
Are people talking about it ? ” 

“Well, I have been asked several times whether there 
hadn’t been a row ; but I have always said that, as far as 
I knew, it was all right. I had my doubts, though ; so I 
cross-examined Loo, who more or less let the cat out of 
the bag. Now, I’ll tell you what it is ; you are both of you 
too good by a long way to be allowed to fall out about 
nothing, and there can’t be any sufficient cause for your 
having fallen out. I wish you wouldn’t mind my taking 
a run to Nice and putting things straight between you.” 

“You are a nice, modest youth, I must say ! ” returned 
Douglas, laughing. “ So you think that nothing but your 
intervention is required to set the most crooked things 
straight, do you ? You will know better when you are a 
little older ; and in the meantime, I won’t ask you to under- 
take a journey to the South of France on my behalf — thanks - 
all the same. ” 

Nevertheless, he was not sorry to be provided with 
another confidant ; nor, when pressed to do so, was he 
very reluctant' to state his case to a listener, who, if less 
experienced, was more compassionate and more sympa- 
thetic than Peggy Rowley. Frank was of opinion that the 
Countess had acted in a hasty and reprehensible manner ; 
but he had wit enough to see that there must be something 
to be said on her side and to realize the difficulty of com- 
posing a difference for which no definite cause can.be 
assigned. He, therefore, fell back upon comforting gen- 
eralities, did what in him lay to divert his host’s thoughts 
from a painful topic and took the first opportunity of walking 
over to Swinford Manor to pay his respects to Miss Rowley 
and hold a consultation with her. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


161 

On his arrival, he was requested, after a brief delay, to 
join Miss Rowley in the conservatory^ where he found her 
engaged in a vehement altercation with her head gardener. 

“ How do you do ? ” said she. “ I am very glad to see 
you, and I shall be still more glad if you happen to pos- 
sess an elementary knowledge of horticulture. Even if 
you don't, I am sure you will agree with me that one ought 
to have some flowers out of all one’s acres of glass.” 

“You seem to have a pretty good show,” remarked 
Frank, glancing at the camellias and gardenias by which 
he was surrounded. 

“Oh, we have got plenty of these things — who hasn’t? 
But, if you will believe me, I haven’t a single rose — liter- 
ally not one ! And when I ask Peter what is the use of a 
winter rose-house, he only sniffs and looks at me with pity- 
ing contempt.” 

“ Them roses is making fine wood, miss,” observed Mr. 
Chervil, composedly. 

“You never would dare to say such a thing as that, 
Peter, if you didn’t hope to expose my ignorance. As if 
roses made wood at this time of year! and as if anybody 
wanted them to make wood ! Blooms are what I want, 
and what it is very evident that I shall not get. But it is a 
sheer waste of breath to talk to you. Come into the house, 
Mr. Innes, and have a cup of tea ; perhaps I may gain some 
advantage out of a talk with you, because there is some- 
thing that I am rather anxious to talk to you about. ” 

Frank, when he had been led into Miss Rowley’s 
boudoir, explained that he also was rather anxious to 
consult her upon a certain subject — possibly the very one 
to which she had alluded. But no sooner had he embarked 
upon a recital of his cousin’s matrimonial misfortunes 
than he was somewhat brusquely interrupted. 

“There is nothing to be done for the present,” Miss 
Rowley declared, “except to keep him from moping, or 
prostrating himself before his wife and acknowledging 
himself in the wrong. ” 

“I don’t believe he will prostrate himself before any- 
body,” said Frank ; “ and for the matter of that, I don’t 
believe he is in the wrong. ” 

“Nor do I ; but he might think so, afid if he were to 
say so, he would be hopelessly done for. The first 
advance must come from her, and unless he has patience 
enough to leave her severely alone, she won’t make it. 

n 


162 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Perhaps he will leave her alone, though ; for he is as 
obtuse as one coulft. wish him to be, and he hasn’t the 
slightest suspicion that she has merely cut off her nose 
to spite her face. Meanwhile, as I say, he mustn’t be 
allowed to mope, and that was partly why I told him to 
send for you. ” 

“Oh, you told him to send for me, did you ? ” 

‘ ‘ I took that liberty ; and I take the liberty of hoping 
that you will give him as much healthy exercise as you 
can, now that you are here. How long will you be able 
to stay ? ” 

“Well,” answered Frank, ruminatingly, “I might man- 
age about ten days, I think.” 

‘ * That will do ; in fact, it will have to do, because my 
musical entertainment is to come off this day week. I 
told you just now that it was only partly on your cousin’s 
account that I begged him to summon you ; it was one 
word for him and two for myself. We are going — at 
least, some friends of mine are going — to perform a comic 
opera next week, by way of a change from the usual 
dance which I am expected to give at this time of year, 
and our wretch of a tenor has thrown us over. Will you 
be very kind and take his place ? Of course you can 
read music at sight, so that you will easily get up your 
part in a few days, and I don’t want to have to engage a 
professional if I can help it. Not that Florence Carey’s 
people are extra particular; still, one would rather not 
have some fat, greasy concert-singer making love to her 
even upon the stage.” 

To offer a part in an amateur operatic performance to 
Frank Innes was much the same thing as to offer cream 
to a cat or a carrot to a donkey. He at once professed 
his willingness to oblige Miss Rowley and to preserve the 
unknown Florence Carey from any contaminating con- 
tact with professionals. 

“Who is she ? ” he asked. “Can she sing at all ? ” 

“She sings like a nightingale, and is a great deal pret- 
- tier to look at. She is a daughter of Lord Burcote’s.” 

“ Oh, indeed ! Rather a fast lot, aren’t Lhey ? ” 

“Some of them are said to be so, but Florence is the 
only one whom, I know at all intimately. By the way, I 
must caution you against making love to her — for your 
own sake, I mean. Lady Burcote always marries her 
daughters well, and I think she has already got some 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 163 

eligible husband in her eye for poor Florence ; so don’t 
let us have any troublesome complications, please.” 

“Luckily, I am neither susceptible nor eligible,” an- 
swered Frank, laughing. “So long as the lady doesn't 
sing false, I think I may promise to keep my emotions 
under control.” 

His emotions were never in the least under control ; 
and some of them were groused into such activity by the 
prospect of Miss Rowley’s entertainment as to thrust 
others altogether into the background. Amongst the 
latter were his anxiety and distress on behalf of Douglas 
Colborne, to whom he imparted the news immediately 
upon his return to Stoke Leighton, and who gratified him 
by displaying a friendly interest in it. 

“ Peggy is a perfect godsend,” he remarked. “I have 
just had a note from her, asking us to go over and shoot 
her coverts, and I suppose she will keep you pretty busy 
rehearsing for the next week, when you aren't shooting. 
Now I shan’t feel ashamed of keeping you as long as you 
can stay.” 

It is not impossible that Miss Rowley, who always had 
a number of irons in the fire and could think of many 
things at one and the same time, may have intended to 
relieve Douglas’s mind in that respect. At any rate, his 
cousin’s company introduced an element of cheerfulness 
into his life and helped to draw him away from the study 
of Blue-books, to which he had of late become more 
addicted than was good for a man of active habits. 


CHAPTER XX. 

LADY FLORENCE. 

Old Miss Spofforth, whose position in Peggy Rowley’s 
household corresponded to that occupied by the Baroness 
von Bickenbach in the household of the Countess Radna, 
and who was a somewhat less submissive person than her 
German counterpart, never hesitated to express a candid 
opinion of Peggy’s guests, not all of whom had the good 
fortune to win her approval. She did not, for instance, 


164 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


approve of Lady Florence Carey, whom she pronounced 
to be a badly brought-up young lady. 

‘ ‘ I greatly fear, ” she added, ‘ ‘ that unless very stringent 
measures are taken with Lady Florence while she is still 
so young, she will end no better than her sisters have done. ” 
‘‘But her sisters have ended admirably,” objected Peggy. 
“ They have married rank and wealth : what more could 
they do, poor things ? Would you have expected them to 
espouse bishops or missionaries ? ” 

Miss Spofforth tightened her lips and shook her head, 
remarking that suitable alliances were one thing and suit- 
able conduct was another. The fact is that the conduct 
of Lady Florence Carey’s married sisters had, upon more 
than one occasion, been of a nature to provoke quasi-pub- 
lic comment. As for the girl herself, it was true enough 
that she had been badly brought up. Little good had she 
had the -chance of learning from her father, that plea- 
sur‘e-loving, middle-aged peer who, notwithstanding his. 
embarrassed circumstances, notwithstanding sundry turf 
scandals in which his name had figured too prominently, 
and notwithstanding the notorious irregularity of his pri- 
vate life, continued to be recognized as a social and politi- 
cal factor of considerable importance. Even less profit- 
able could be the instructions of her mother, who had been 
a beauty in the sixties and was now a coarse, stout 
woman, with a painted face, a violent temper, and no 
principles worth mentioning. The Burcotes were not what 
used once upon a time to be called “nice” people ; but 
they were what is nowadays called very “smart” ; they 
were connected with most of the greatest families in the 
land ; they were, in a certain sense, powerful, and they 
could do and say things which are scarcely permitted in 
the case of humbler folk. Lady Florence, the youngest 
of their daughters, had as yet done nothing startling, 
though it must be admitted that she occasionally said some 
rather startling things, wheVeby Miss Spofforth had been 
shocked. A less severe or a more skilful observer would, 
however, have noticed that she said them in such a 
natural, innocent manner as to exclude all suspicion of 
malice prepense , while she looked so pretty, so refined 
and so well-bred, with her slim figure, her small, delicately 
cut features and her reddish-brown hair, that only the 
Miss Spofforths of this world could have dreqmt of accuse 
jng her pf vulgarity, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 165 

As a matter of fact, her mind was not in the least a vul- 
gar one, but was singularly simple, singularly free from 
evil imaginings and, it may be added, singularly ill-stored. 
So perfunctory had been her education that she could not 
have expressed herself intelligibly in any foreign language, 
would have been puzzled to say whether Henry VIII. was 
the father or the son of Queen Elizabeth, and did not so 
much as know the meaning of algebra. On the other 
hand, she knew — how could she help it, having gt own up 
amid such surroundings ? — a great many things of which 
young girls are generally supposed to be ignorant. Yet 
she had, somehow or other, remained untainted by such 
knowledge ; she had conquered the affections of Peggy 
Rowley, who seldom made mistakes in the selection of her 
friends ; and if she had not a Superabundance of accom- 
plishments, few people would have denied that she had 
plenty of charms. 

One gift she did unquestionably possess in the shape of 
a clear soprano voice, with which Frank Innes was quite 
enchanted the moment that he heard it. Frank, whose 
own voice had been assiduously cultivated of late and who 
thought himself qualified to speak with authority upon 
such matters, told her at once that nothing but cultivation 
was required to raise her a long way above the class of 
ordinary amateurs. She had not been taught to enunciate 
properly, he said, nor did she understand how to econo- 
mize her breath ; but the organ in itself was splendid and 
capable of immense development. 

“So long as I can get through my part without break- 
ing down, I don’t mind,” answered the girl. “The nuis- 
ance of this kind of thing is that, supposing one were to 
get nervous at the last moment, one couldn’t very well 
chuck it up. When it is only a question of singing a song 
after dinner, one can simply say that one won’t ; and if 
people don’t like that, why — they can lump it, you know.” 

Her speaking voice was rather high in pitch and rather 
broad in accent. If she was subject to attacks of nerves, 
she presented no appearance of being so, and Frank made 
bold to say as much. “ Oh, I don’t suppose I shall funk 
it when the time comes,” she answered ; “ only I’m not 
sure enough of myself to feel as comfortable as I should 
like to feel. We shall pull through all right, I daresay ; 
|?ut the piece itself is beastly rot, don’t you think so ? ” 
to hear Lady Florence say “beastly rot” was a rSY-* 


1 66 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


elation. The expression may lack elegance, and, indeed, 
it cannot be safely recommended for adoption by the 
Common run of young women, but it has a certain 
piquancy when uttered in a certain way ; and that was why 
Frank Innes, for all his boasted mastery over his emo- 
tions, realized with some suddenness that there might be 
an appreciable danger in making mock love to one whose 
beauty he had already acknowledged-inwardly in the most 
unreserved manner. As for her criticism upon the play 
which they were engaged in rehearsing, it was probably 
just ; but when you have pretty costumes, tolerable 
music and fairly competent performers, the libretto be- 
comes a matter of secondary importance, and after the 
actors had been released, the jeune premier felt in a posi- 
tion to assure Miss Rowley that her entertainment would 
prove a success. Fie said : 

“ Most of your friends can act a little bit, and some of 
them can even sing after a fashion ; but Lady Florence 
is a host in herself ! She would make the thing- go down 
if she were ten times worse supported than she is. How 
awfully pretty she is too ! ” 

“ Remember what I told you,” returned Peggy, raising 
an admonishing forefinger at him. 

‘ f Oh, don’t be alarmed ; one knows one’s place. All 
the same, Lady Florence tempts me to wish myself a 
duke with an income of half a million or so.” 

“ I fancy Lady Burcote would be satisfied with some- 
thing less than that ; but stye wouldn't be satisfied with 
the likes of you, so please don’t be silly. There are 
plenty of Florence Careys about, and when you are a few 
years older I will find you one, if you like ; but this one 
is ‘forbidden fruit. Be good enough to regard her as a lay 
figure, and if you will sing as well on Wednesday next as 
you have sung to-day, you will establish an eternal claim 
upon my gratitude. Don’t forget that we have another 
rehearsal to-morrow afternoon. " 

He was not likely to forget it ; nor did he forget to 
present himself at Swinford Manor on every succeeding 
afternoon, the unfortunate fellow ! A lay-figure indeed ! 
— he might as well have tried to treat his own excitable 
personality as a lay-figure ; and, in point of fact, he did 
make that preposterous attempt. He endeavored not to 
be silly ; he endeavored to throw himself into his part, 
and to throw himself out of it again when he had done 


THE CO UNTESS RADNA. 1 6 7 

with it ; but he was made of flesh and blood, like the rest 
of us ; so that at the expiration of forty-eight hours he had 
to recognize a circumstance as to which self-deception was 
no longer possible — namely, that he was over head and 
ears in love with a lady who was hopelessly out of his 
reach. 

That being so, it clearly behoved him to conceal senti- 
ments which there could* be no conceivable use in dis- 
closing ; but, as he was a poor hand at dissimulation, it 
came to pass that when the performance took place — and 
a thoroughly satisfactory performance it was, from the 
point of view of the lookers-on — his secret had become 
common property. . His fellow-actors, with whom he had 
speedily established relations of intimacy, knew it and 
did not deny themselves the fun of chaffing him about it ; 
Peggy Rowley evidently knew it, though she said nothing 
and did not betray her knowledge, save by an occasional 
half-pitying, half-reproachful glance ; the only question 
was whether Lady Florence herself had been equally per- 
spicacious. He could not tell whether she had or not, 
and perhaps he may be forgiven for having taken no ex- 
traordinary pains to keep her in the dark. It would, of 
course, have been out of the question for him to declare 
himself, directly or indirectly ; but so long as he did 
neither the one nor the other, what harm could there be in 
her divining a passion which she was guiltless of having 
attempted to inspire ? 

However, she did not, so far as he was able to judge, 
divine it. In the course of the rehearsals and of the 
inevitable chats which succeeded them, she made friends 
with him ; she had from the first been quite at her ease 
in his society; she made him acquainted, in the pleasant- 
est possible language, with many details bearing upon 
her family life and prospects ; she told him that her father 
was “ a dear old fellow, though about as wicked as they 
make them ; ” she avowed that she had more fear of her 
mother than affection for her ; she spoke, without appar- 
ent disgust, of the probability that she would ere long be 
married to ‘‘some old horror or other with a pot of money ; ” 
and she displayed some interest in the*accounts which he 
gave her in return of his own relatives, of his career, as 
far as it had gone, and of his ambitions. But he could 
not flatter himself that her equanimity would have been 
more than momentarily disturbed if he had dropped down 


i68 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


dead at her feet ; nor was. there the slightest reason for 
believing that her indifference would have been modified 
by a suspicion of his ardor. At length he really could 
not resist saying to her : 

‘ ‘ I can't make you out at all : you don't seem to care 
a bit what happens.” 

It was after the operetta had been brought to a brilliant 
conclusion that he made this leading remark. The rooms 
had v been cleared, the band was playing a waltz and he had 
secured as his first partner the ex-prima donna, who still 
wore the eighteenth century costume belonging to her part. 
She turned a slightly surprised pair of brown eyes upon 
him. 

“ What have I done to make you say that ?” she asked. 
“ Haven’t I been working like a slave for the last week? 
Don’t I look pleased enough ? I assure you I should have 
cared very much indeed if the show had collapsed.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, yes ; I daresay you care as much as the rest of us 
about things of that sort ; but do you care about the more 
important things ? You never speak as if you did. There 
are more important things which are bound to happen to 
everybody, and you treat them as if they were trifles. 
There is — well, there is falling in love, for instance. I 
suppose that is one of the things which are pretty sure to 
happen to everybody sooner or later.” 

Lady Florence laughed. “Oh, it would never do for me 
to fall in love,” she said ; “ I couldn’t afford it. From our 
earliest youth it has been impressed upon us that falling in 
love is one of the luxuries which we can’t possibly afford. ” 

“As far as that goes, I can’t afford it either. But how 
is one to help it ? ” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know. My mother says that you ought 
to fall in love with your husband, if you can ; but I should 
think that was not so easy"as to avoid falling in love with 
somebody else.” 

“ Ah, that’s just it ! You will never find it* difficult to 
avoid falling in love with somebody else, and I suppose 
you are to be congratulated upon having no heart to speak 
of. Somebody else might find it a little difficult to con- 
gratulate you, though. ” 

The girl looked him straight in the face for a moment, 
with a wondering, troubled expression upon her own. 

“ You are rather rude and disagreeable this evening, 

Mb Innes,” said she, “Please don’t go on being diV 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


169 

agreeable, because I am out on a holiday, and to-morrow 
I shall have to return to — to all sorts of hateful things. 
You might allow melo enjoy myself while I can, even 
though I haven’t any heart to speak of.” 

“Are you really going away to-morrow?” exclaimed 
Frank, disconsolately. “ Well, then, since it interferes with 
your enjoyment to be told that you are heartless, you 
shan’t be told so any more. I apologize for having been 
rude ; I didn’t mean to be rude. And — and, might I have 
another dance later on ? ” 

She granted him several other dances — so many; indeed, 
that Miss Rowley' grew uneasy and remarked to Douglas 
Colborne, who, contrary to his habit, had not danced at 
all : 

“ You will have to speak seriously to that young cousin 
of yours. I warned him off at the outset, but I am afraid 
he hasn’t been preserved from playing the fool by my 
danger signals. That is his own look-out, and he can’t 
blame me if he burns his fingers ; but Lady Burcote will 
blame me in a pretty loud tone of voice if Florence takes 
it into her head to play the fool with him. ” 

“I will speak seriously to him if you really think it nec- 
essary,” answered Douglas, who was not in the best of 
spirits, and to whom, for the time being, the flirtations of 
his juniors seemed altogether unimportant ; “ but I doubt 
whether there is much cause for alarm. Frank Js one of 
those lucky beggars who don’t take life seriously.” 

“ I suppose you mean thal you are one of the unlucky 
beggars who do. We may shake hands upon that, because 
I’m another, little as you might imagine it to look at me. 
We make a very great mistake ; but of course we can’t help 
ourselves, and, being constituted as we are, the wisest 
thing that we can do is to push ourselves as far as possible 
into the background until we have reached middle age. 
By that time we shall probably have become pretty 
tough and philosophical, notwithstanding our seriousness. 
Meanwhile we might as well devote our attention to the 
figures in the foreground, who have no pretension to phi- 
losophy. ” 

“You are much too young to talk like that,” said 
Douglas. 

“Am I so very much younger than you? However, as 
I said before, we are out' of the game. Anyhow, we are 
gpt of the game which young people play ; we have given 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


170 

up sentimentality and gone in -for politics, isn’t that it ? 
Some people, you know, give up cricket at thirty ; a few 
struggle on for another ten years ; but in the long run all 
are forced to retire ; after which whist and other consola- 
tions come to the fore. I shouldn't regard a pitched battle 
with Lady Rurcote as any sort of consolation for the 
sorrows of premature old maidenhood ; so please do what 
you can to make your cousin realize his position. ” 

“I expect he realizes it without my help, ” answered 
Douglas, smiling ; “ but there is no reason why I shouldn't 
pack him off to London to-morrow to resume his work. 
For that matter, I shall soon be going to London myself.” 

“To Carlton House Terrace ? " asked Peggy, quickly. 

“ Oh, no ; that house doesn't belong to me. I daresay 
my mother will give me a bedroom ; or, if that is not con- 
venient to her, I can take lodgings somewhere. As you 
say, I have given up sentimentality — it seems to me that 
I have given up caring about a lot of other things into the 
bargain — and it only remains for me to go in for politics. 
What a fortunate circumstance it is that politics really do 
happen to interest me ! ” 

Peggy scrutinized him gravely for an instant and then 
said: “Yes, that is a very fortunate circumstance. 

Stick to politics ; make it your chief aim to distinguish 
yourself as a debater, and — and all other things will prob- 
ably be added unto you. You will also find, most likely, 
that you haven’t ceased to care about them. I am not in 
the least bit sorry for you, do you know ? ” 

“I am perfectly aware of that,” returned Douglas, with 
a touch of irritability which he might have had some 
difficulty in acco-unting for, “and perhaps you will admit 
that I haven’t implored my friends to compassionate me. 
Let it be agreed that my troubles are purely sentimental 
ones, and that I am not likely to die of them. Frank isn’t 
likely to die of his either ; still, to set your mind at rest, 
Fll give him a lecture as we drive home.” 

He was as good as his word ; and it is scarcely neces- 
sary to add that, for any effect which his sensible observa- 
tions produced upon the young man who, for five-and- 
twenty minutes or so, had to listen to them in the obscurity 
of a swiftly-rolling brougham, he might as well have 
economized his breath. Frank was wise enough and dis- 
obliging enough to accept all the excellent advice proffered 
to him in respectful silence ; Frank, not having a word to 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


171 

say for himself, abstained from saying a word. Only, 
after he had lighted his bedroom candle and was about to 
wish his cousin good-night, he asked very humbly whether 
there would be any objection to his having a dog-cart 
after breakfast in the morning. 

“ Because/' he explained, “ Lady Florence is leaving 
by the 11.45 train, and I half promised to meet her at the 
station and give her a copy of the score which I carried 
away with me the other day by mistake. I’m afraid she 
might think me rather rude if I didn’t turn up.” 

“Oh, take your dog-cart, and be hanged to you!” 
returned Douglas, laughing. ‘ ‘ I have pointed out to you 
that you are an utter young idiot ; I can’t do more. If 
Lady Florence Carey resembles the other members of her 
family — and I venture to think that she does — your idiocy 
won’t cause an atom of annoyance to anybody on earth 
except yourself.” 

Lady Florence, at all events,' exhibited no sign of annoy- 
ance when she found herself confronted on the platform 
with her partner of the previous evening. She only 
said : 

“ Oh, you have come, then ? — how nice of you ! Thanks 
for the music ; I wanted to have some souvenir of a very 
jolly time. It has been very jolly, taking it all round, 
hasn’t it? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Frank, rather lugubriously ; “ but what 
isn’t at all jolly is to think that it is all over. I wonder 
whether we shall ever meet again ! ” 

“ Oh, I shouldn’t wonder if we were to meet somewhere 
in London next season,” said the girl. “ I can't ask you 
to come and see us, because my mother would jump down 
my throat if I dared to invite a stranger to call ; but I 
daresay you know some of the people whom we know. 
Here comes the train. Would you mind telling them to 
bring me a foot-warmer? ” 

He hastily executed her commission, and, after doing 
so, had still a minute to spare, during which he looked so 
dolorous that Lady Florence suddenly burst out laughing. 

‘ ‘ Don’t pull such a desperately long face ! ” she exclaimed. 
“You make me feel inclined to cry, and goodness knows 
that the end of a holiday is dismal enough without any 
assistance on your part ! What can I do to summon up a 
smile to your lips ? Would you care to have a photograph 
of me in my costume ? We were all photographed this 


72 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


morning, and I’ll send you a copy ff you like, and if you 
will give me your address.’’ 

This gracious promise produced the desired result. It 
likewise produced a result which Lady Florence could not 
have desired, inasmuch as it tempted a young man whom 
his cousin had justly called an idiot to cherish the most 
extravagant and ridiculous hopes. 


CHAPTER XXL 

DOUGLAS BECOMES IMPORTANT. 

Frank Innes said nothing to his cousin about that 
promised photograph. He was a good-tempered young 
fellow and he did not mind being laughed at ; still, no 
man is bound to offer himself as a mark for clumsy ridi- 
cule, and it was very evident to him that Douglas was, 
for the time being, scarcely capable of thinking or speak- 
ing impartially about the opposite sex. He merely men- 
tioned, therefore, that he had seen Lady Florence off and 
added that he himself would have to be off soon. There 
was, in truth, nothing to detain him at Stoke Leighton, 
nor could Douglas stoop to entreat as a personal favor 
that he would remain a little longer in that melancholy 
and deserted house. 

It was, however, almost impossible to remain there 
without him. His departure added a darker tinge to the 
sombre aspect which all familiar objects had already as- 
sumed in the eyes of their owner, and probably no single 
member of the British Legislature returned to his duties 
at the opening of the session with more alacrity than Mr. 
Colborne. He domiciled himself temporarily in Elvaston 
Place, where he met with a warm welcome ; but, notwith- 
standing all the thoughtful arrangements which had been 
made for his comfort, he perceived, after a day or two, 
that it would be necessary for him to seek other quarters. 
Kind as his mother was, and grateful as he felt to her for 
her kindness, she managed to make him wince almost 
every time that she spoke to him. She wanted him to do 
things which it was really impossible for him to do ; she 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


173 


herself seemed to have been doing things which she ought 
never to have done. Of course, if she chose to corre- 
spond with his wife, she had a perfect right to do so ; but 
it was neither right nor reasonable to expect that he should 
journey off to Nice as a humble suppliant, while it was 
preposterous to imagine that a breach which had been 
none of his creating could be healed over, as the quarrels 
of children are composed, by a simple agreement on 
both sides to kiss and be friends. 

“My dear mother,” he was at length exasperated into 
saying, “you don't, or you won’t, understand how I am 
placed. It is Helene who has left me, not I who have left 
her. She knows very well that she can come back to me 
to-morrow if she chooses ; but I believe she also knows 
that I shall not be induced to surrender my independence 
by any temptation. I can't help it if Phyllis has seen fit 
to surrender hers ; that is her affair and her husband’s. 
As for me, I have swallowed as much humble pie as my 
digestion will stand, so I trust you won’t waste your time 
and wear out my patience by pressing a further dose upon 
me.” 

Mrs. Colborne, who was a good deal in awe of her son, 
bowed her head and held her peace. At the bottom of her 
heart she was not altogether comfortable about Phyllis’s 
magnificent dowry ; only she thought that Douglas might 
have recognized that as being one amongst the many 
arguments which rendered it almost imperative upon him 
to grant concessions to the Countess. 

“ He is much too proud and much too obstinate,” she 
said to her unmarried daughter. “ One can only hope 
that he will come round in time ; for the present state of 
things is too dreadful ! I am sure I am no advocate for 
divorce, but even divorce would be better for him than 
living alone all his days, without the possibility of ever 
having an heir to his property. After all, what is it that 
Helene asks of him ? ” 

“ I don't know,” answered Loo, sorrowfully, “but I 
thought she asked him to give up his seat in Parliament, 
for one thing.” 

“ Well, that is asking a great deal, no doubt; but the 
question is whether he doesn’t lose more than he gains 
by refusing her. Your father used often to say that the 
House of Commons only existed for the benefit of some 


i74 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


twenty or thirty individuals, and that ordinary men were 
much happier out of it than in it.” 

The justice of the dictum ascribed to the late Mr. Col- 
borne will perhaps not be disputed by the ordinary M. P., 
but it so happened that Douglas was at this time upon the 
.point of raising himself above the ordinary level, which 
naturally made all the difference.' His speech upon the 
Local Government Bill is still remembered, not only by 
reason of its ability and incisiveness, but because it con- 
veyed the first intimation to the Ministry of the day that 
they numbered amongst their supporters a young man 
who had opinions of his own, who knew how to express 
them and who might easily become more troublesome 
than an opponent. His success was wholly unpremedi- 
tated and came upon him as a complete surprise ; but it 
was so great that he would not haye been human if he had 
not been a little elated by it. As a matter of abstract 
theory, we all know that political celebrity does not imply 
nearly as much as that kind of celebrity which comes to 
a man who, by his own talents, courage or industry, has 
reached the highest rank in his profession ; but then we 
must all allow that political celebrity, which, as a rule, is 
far more suddenly acquired, is also far more intoxicating. 
Douglas did not lose his head because he was made the 
subject of leading articles and because great men who had 
hitherto only recognized in him Peggy Rowley's protege , 
or the young fellow who had married the Hungarian 
countess, now began to approach him with eager and 
almost deferential civility ; he demeaned himself modestly, 
remembering that his reputation rested as yet upon no 
very solid basis. Still he could not but be aware that he 
had taken that first long step which mediocrity can never 
take — that he had, so to speak, learnt how to play the 
game — that he was out of the ruck, and that it only de- 
pended upon himself to retain the place which he had won 
in the van. Moreover, although he had no desire to play 
the enfant terrible , he had quite made up his mind that, 
should certain measures be introduced in the shape as- 
signed to them by rumor, he would both speak and vote 
against his party. Without proclaiming his intentions, he 
did not conceal them from those in authority when they 
thought it worth their while to question him ; and several 
magnates did think it worth their while to do so, as well 
as to warn him very kindly and earnestly against the 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


J 75 


danger of nipping a promising career in the bud by laying 
himself open to charges of insubordination and wrong- 
headedness. 

All this was highly exhilarating, and had the effect of 
rendering the troubles of his private life a good deal less 
onerous. He had, indeed, little time to brood over these ; 
for the spare hours of his private life speedily became very 
full of engagements, and he was seldom or never reminded 
by his numerous friends and acquaintances that there was 
an empty house in Carlton House Terrace of which he 
had, a year ago, been the titular lord. It was known that 
the Countess Radna had left the country, but apparently 
that was not considered to be a circumstance which 
required explanation ; if people thought about her at all, 
they probably thought that she would return to London after' 
Easter, and in the meantime her husband was quite as 
useful for social purposes without her as with her. The 
indifference with which our private affairs are regarded by 
our neighbors seems quite astonishing until we reflect upon 
the indifference with which, after all, we are wont to regard 
theirs. 

There was, ^however, one of Douglas Colborne’s friends 
who had never been indifferent to anything that concerned 
him, and was least of all likely to be indifferent in the 
matter of political achievements on his part. Peggy Row- 
ley’s congratulations were so hearty, and her predictions 
so sanguine, that he had to remind her laughingly of the 
great gulf which stilt intervened between him and even a 
remote prospect of office. 

“ I’m an absolute impostor, you know,” said he ; “ or, 
rather, I’m an every-day sort of honest man, who looks 
like an impostor because he has had the audacity to kick 
over the traces. The imposture will become apparent 
to everybody as soon as it is discovered that my Toryism 
isn’t in the least affected by a humble desire to preserve^ 
my independence.” 

“Oh, you’ll do,” answered Peggy, confidently. “I’m 
afraid you are more likely to preserve your Toryism than 
your honest independence ; but you have made it neces- 
sary for them to conciliate you, and you won’t refuse to 
be conciliated when the right moment comes. I am 
beginning to understand how wise you were to keep quiet 
all this time. ” 

“But I really am honest,” remonstrated Douglas. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


176 

“As if I didn't know that ! All the' same, you maybe 
Prime Minister of England before you die.” 

“ Thanks ; but you said I was in danger of ceasing to 
be honest and independent. ” 

“ Well, I suppose you will end by finding out that com- 
promises are inevitable. It doesn’t do to be too stubborn 
and unyielding — as you would have to acknowledge if you 
had a gardener whom you had no fair excuse for dismissing, 
and a garden which was a perpetual disappointment to you. 
Perfection isn’t attainable in this world, and we should 
never do any sort of good in it unless we resigned ourselves 
to making the best of its imperfections. Just at present 
you are in the temper to ask a great deal too much, and 
a great deal more than you will get ; but experience will 
educate you.” 

“ I know w T hat you mean, and I venture to differ from 
you. Compromise may be the essence of a successful 
policy ; I don’t say that it isn’t, and I don't particularly 
care whether I get the chance of starting a policy of my 
own or not. But I am quite sure that, as between husband 
and wife, there are only two possible policies — dictation 
-or surrender.” 

“ I shouldn’t have thought so,” returned Peggy, with a 
shrug of her shoulders ; “ but it is true that I have never 
been anybody’s wife. I don’t see why — supposing that 
you have patience enough — you shouldn’t establish your 
domestic dictatorship eventually, and I am glad you admit 
that the country isn’t altogether prepafedto have a dictator 
sprung upon it from one moment to another. You will 
learn to put up with a Unionist Government just as I have 
learned to put up with the cussedness of Peter Chervil. It 
isn’t exactly what one would like,' but one might go farther 
and fare worse. ” 

It was at Mrs. Colborne’s house in Elvaston Place that 
the above conversation was held. Mrs. Colborne who had 
been overjoyed by her son’s parliamentary triumph (and 
who, indeed, had written to the Countess Radna to give her 
full particulars respecting it ), had begun to entertain in an 
unostentatious way, and her afternoon receptions were 
much more numerously attended now that she had a tame 
celebrity upon the premises whom she could offer as a bait 
to attract visitors. On this afternoon her drawing-room 
was filledto overflowing with people of whom the majority 
were dying to be introduced to Douglas, so that he was 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


177 

compelled to break off a dialogue in which he did not feel 
that the last word had yet been spoken. 

Miss Rowley, on the other hand, had said all that she 
had any intention of saying for the present, and she now 
bethought herself that it might be desirable to address a 
few observations to another young friend of hers, whom 
she espied on the opposite side of the room. Frank Innes 
responded to her signal with prompt alacrity. 

“ I’m so awfully glad to see you,” said he, after he had 
shaken hands with her ; ‘ ‘ you’re the very person whom 1 
wanted to meet.” 

“ Les beaux esprits revencontrent ; it so happens that I 
was rather anxious to meet you. The fact of the matter 
is that I have a crow to pluck with you. However, we’ll 
come to that later on. Why were you so eager to meet 
me, I wonder? In order to propound some well-laid 
scheme for bringing Douglas Colborne and his wife into 
harmony once more ? ” 

“ Douglas and his wife?” repeated Frank, vaguely — 
for, indeed, his attention was otherwise engaged at the 
moment. ‘‘Well, I had the cheek, some time ago, to 
think that a common friend might manage to reconcile 
them ; but you rather put me off by snubbing me so 
mercilessly the moment that I broached the subject. I 
shouldn’t wonder if you were right, you know ; he is going 
to be a great man, and I suppose he can dispense with her 
as easily as she can dispense with him. We shall know 
more about it when the warm weather comes and when 
she has to leave Nice ; don’t you* think so ? ” 

‘ ‘ Perhaps we shall ; at all events, your desire to fore- 
gather with me was- as little due to his claims upon your 
affectionate interest as to mine, it seems. Now, then, 
what is it that you want of me ? Out with it, or somebody 
will come and interrupt us before you have had time to 
make your modest petition.” 

“ I believe you know what it is without being told.” 
returned Frank, laughing a little shamefacedly ; “it really 
is a modest petition enough when all’s said.” 

“Lean understand your being of that opinion, though 
I don’t entirely share it. Of course, what you want is to 
be introduced to the Burcotes, and your idea is that I shall 
incur no responsibility whatever by obliging you in so 
trifling a matter. But suppose I were self-indulgent enough 
to allow myself the luxury of a conscience. Suppose my 


* 7 » 


THE COUNTERS RADNA. 


conscience forbade me to encourage a flirtation which, in 
the nature of things, could never be anything more than 
a flirtation, which could inflict no permanent injury upon 
you, but which might (for all sorts of queer things are 
always occurring) inflict a permanent injury upon poor 
little Florence Carey. And suppose the crow which I told 
you that I had to pluck with you was connected with a 
certain correspondence respecting a photograph which has 
been more or less submitted to my inspection — what then, 
young man ? ” 

“ Oh, she showed you my letters, then ? ” 

“ She didn’t show them to me, because I have an old- 
fashioned prejudice against reading letters which were 
not written with a view to their being read by me ; but 
such are the girl’s innocence and simplicity that I might 
have read them if I had liked. Now do you understand 
why neither you nor I ought to take advantage of qualities 
which we ourselves can’t boast of?” 

“I don’t think I do quite,” answered 'Frank, after a 
pause ; ‘ ‘ I’m sure I am as innocent and simple as anybody. 
Did she ask you to introduce me to her people ? ” 

‘ ‘ What a shabby question to put ? I’ll answer it, though ; 
because, if I didn't answer it, you would at once jump to 
a correct conclusion. She did make the same request of 
me that you- were upon the point of making when I antici- 
pated you * she is aware that you are smitten with her — I 
imagine that you must have made that fact plain to the 
meanest capacity— and nothing is more probable than that, 
if you are allowed to meet, she will conceive an admiration 
for you which, as far as I know, you don’t in the least de- 
serve. I hope I express myself in sufficiently clear lan- 
guage. W ell, I don’t see why I should serve her such an ill 
turn. You may say that she is bound to have flirtations 
and that she might as well flirt with you as with somebody 
else. Very likely : but that troublesome conscience of 
mine won’t listen to casuistry. Even as it is, I can’t acquit 
myself of all blame in /the matter of that stupid little oper- 
etta, though I didn’t forget to give yoiu fair warn irfg. I 
am sorry to appear disobliging, but I am afraid you will 
have to look about for some other friend of Ladv Bur- 

i ) ; ; * 

cote s. 

“ Look here, Miss Rowley,” said Frank, “you’re hardly 
as fair to me as you might be. I shouldn’t wonder at 
your refusing to introduce me to Lord and Lady Bur- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


x 79 


cote if it were true that my only object was to amuse my- 
self by a flirtation which might last for a fe\y weeks. I 
don’t exactly know where the amusement would come in ; 
but that’s neither here nor there ; the truth is — I don’t 
mind telling you so, because plain dealing on one side 
deserves to be met with plain dealing on the other — the 
truth is that Lady Florence is just the very last person in 
the w T orld with 'whom it could be possible for me to flirt. ” 

‘‘The very last? Good gracious me ! you don’t mean 
to say that you entertain the insane hope of ever marrying 
her, do you ? ” 

“It would be insane if there were no hope of her ever 
caring for me, I admit ; but you yourself seemed to think 
just now that that wasn't so utterly out of the question. 
And supposing that she could and did care for me ” 

“ I decline to suppose anything so preposterous. You 
have made out a much worse case than I expected. A 
flirtation would have been inadmissible, but the bare 
thought of serious intentions makes my blood run cold ! 
Go away ; I wash my hands of you.” 

Frank did not go away. He remained to unfold his 
case in fuller detail to a somewhat impatient hearer ; he 
explained that, small as his present income was, it might 
possibly — not to say probably — be multiplied by ten 
before many years were past. He mentioned the im- 
posing sums which were being paid every day to public 
singers who could scarcely be called his superiors, and 
he wound up by remarking that, whether he succeeded or 
failed, he was at least entitled to such sympathy as a 
lover >vho is thoroughly in earnest may crave at the hands 
of his friends. But Peggy would have nothing to do with 
him. 

“As far as sympathy goes, ” she declared, “I make you 
welcome to mine. I sympathize, and, what is more, I 
condole with you. But if you imagine that Lady Burcote 
is going to let her daughter marry a public singer, you 
little know her : and if you imagine that I am going to 
stir up a hornet’s nest about my ears by helping you to 
know her better, you little know me.” 

‘ ‘ All right, ” returned Frank ; ‘ ‘ I’ll get somebody else to 
introduce" me to her, then. By hook or by crook, I mean 
to obtain the introduction, I can tell you that much.” 

Miss Rowley rose from the chair upon which she had 
been sitting -and made for the door, “ I see that it is 


i8o 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


useless to talk to you. Farewell ! Try to come to your 
senses, if you can, without having been shaken or kicked 
into them/’ 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE AMIABILITY OF LADY WINK FI ELD. 

Of winter and of discontent all mortals are doomed to 
take their share. Winter, of course, may be escaped by 
those who have the means and inclination to betake them- 
selves to the tropics ; but there is a winter in Nice, as the 
Countess Radna found out when the mistral began to blow, 
and when the impossibility of obtaining dry firewood for 
love or money was brought home to her ; while discon- 
tent, as everybody knows, will spring up and flourish in 
any climate. Now, to be discontented was nothing new 
to her. From her earliest childhood she had never been 
anything else — unless, indeed, it might have been during 
that too brief period when she had deluded herself into 
the belief that Douglas Colborne was the lord and master 
for whom she had longed, to whom she could render 
implicit obedience and whose partial mission it was to re- 
duce her chaotic notions, emotions and aspirations to some- 
thing resembling a coherent and definite standpoint. But 
Douglas hadbeen found wanting, and had been cast aside ; 
she was once more at sea, without rudder or compass ; she 
knew not what port to make for, nor, had she been in 
possession of that desirable knowledge, would she have 
had the slightest idea how to utilize it. The sorrows of 
spoilt children of Fortune have served so often as a theme 
for moralists that the paradox has lost all its freshness ; 
yet they are quite as genuine, quite as common and quite 
as much entitled to sympathy as the sorrows of the poor, 
the sick and the maimed. Many a lazy beggar, stretching 
out his bare legs in the sunshine and the dust at her gates, 
was a more enviable being than the wealthy Countess who 
day after day aired her incurable weariness in the well- 
kept gardens above his head. 

Such being her condition of mind, it may seem natural 
enough to assume that the gossips of Nice were not very 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


81 


far out in forming the conclusions which they did not fail 
to form when they noted that the Marchesedi Leonforte's 
afternoon drive took him, fully nine times out of every 
ten, to the villa occupied by the Countess Radna. But 
the gossips, whose conclusions are so frequently correct, 
and who in this instance had more plausible reasons than 
they were aware of for drawing the conclusions at which 
they had arrived, were mistaken. They would have been 
bitterly disappointed if they could have overheard the 
prolonged conversations which took place between the 
Countess and her Italian admirer, for in them there was 
little or no question of love, nor were the limits of pro- 
priety overstepped for a single moment. The Marchese, 
it is true, was an admirer and an ardent one ; his admira- 
tion, or rather adoration, was so thinly veiled that, for all 
practical purposes, it might as well have been openly 
avowed ; but he was debarred from openly avowing it by 
the precepts of a religion in which he firmly believed and 
which he recognized as binding upon him ; while she, on 
her side, was protected by the dictates of a system of 
morality which governed her actions, although she could 
have given no lucid explanation of it. Christianity might 
be a superstition ; marriage might be a contract of neither 
greater nor less validity than the lease of a house; but — 
whatever might be the real meaning of them — there were 
such things as right and wrong, self-respect and self-con- 
tempt, and if she had felt inclined to respond in any 
degree to Leonforte’s passion she would, doubtless, have 
dismissed him instantly and unhesitatingly. 

Her code of morality did not, however, render it incum- 
" bent upon her to dismiss him for his own sake. Scores of 
men had been desperately in love with her before him ; 
she had Watched the waxing and the waning of their affec- 
tions ; she was convinced that fidelity is a form of strength 
or weakness which belongs exclusively to the female sex, 
and she did not believe that the sufferings to which he 
obviously imagined himself to be a prey would do him 
any sort of harm. Meanwhile, he always interested and 
sometimes diverted her. He was, as the men of his 
nation not frequently are, a strange and scarcely compre- 
hensible compound. In some respects he seemed to be 
a mere child ; in others he exhibited himself as a full- 
grown man, who half frightened her by his terrible ear- 
nestness. He had moods of dignified self-control, alter- 


1 82 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


nating oddly with fits of excitement, during which it was 
necessary to ignore two-thirds of the indiscreet sayings 
which escaped his lips. His indiscretions, however, did 
not take the shape which they might have been expected 
to take ; he never forgot that his companion was a mar- 
ried woman, nor did he ever attempt to address her as one 
who had shaken off the trammels of wedded existence ; 
but he was evidently unable to conceive that both she and 
her husband might be in the right, and, since he had 
decided that she had right on her side, he occasionally 
spoke of Douglas Colborne in terms which, had they been 
reported to the mother of that comparatively innocent 
gentleman, would have caused her some justifiable alarm. 

The Countess, as has been said, ignored such outbreaks, 
and did not trouble herself to take up the cudgels on 
behalf of the absent offender, By her way of thinking, 
Douglas was an unpardonable offender, and it would have 
been rather too tedious a process to explain to this prim- 
itive Marchese how and why he was not a downright 
monster. Besides, he was absent — a circumstance which 
not only rendered it superfluous to undertake his defence, 
but also preserved him from the risk of being eaten up, 
body and bones, by an impetuous Sicilian. Not for one 
instant would she have admitted that his absence was just 
what caused her to regard him as unpardonable ; she was 
very far indeed from imagining that she was furious with 
him for having neither pursued her nor written to her. - 
Only she deemed that her skin-deep cynicism and scep- 
ticism received all the support that was required to keep 
them alive from the ascertained fact that a man who, not 
so very long ago, had professed to love her more than * 
anything and everything in the world, could resign him- 
self with scarcely the semblance of a struggle to being 
deserted by her, and could go on leading his own life as 
composedly as though she had never been born to inter- 
rupt the even tenor of it. Thus it was that Mrs. Colborne’s 
letter, describing the distinction acquired by Douglas in 
the, legislative assembly of his native land, produced an 
effect altogether different from that which the ingenuous 
writer had hoped for. The Countess, after perusing her 
mother-in-law's artless composition, was so vexed and 
irritated that she could not deny herself the satisfaction of 
imparting its contents to Leonforte. 

“Would one not say," she exclaimed, “ that these good 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


83 


people expected me to join in their infantine exultation ! 
Yet they might surely have guessed how absolutely it is 
the same thing to me whether Mr. Brown or Mr. Jones has 
a majority in the English House of Commons, and how 
very little it is any affair of mine whether my husband 
supports Mr. Jones or annihilates him ! ” 

The Marchese ground his teeth and answered: ‘ ‘ I should 
like to make it my affair to remind that husband of yours 
that he is your husband ! ” 

“You are too kind ; that is the very last thing of which 
I am anxious to remind him. I ask nothing better than 
that he should forget it — as indeed he seems to have done. 
The only annoying part of the business is that civilization 
has not yet advanced far enough to make a practical 
divorce a legal one.” 

The Marchese looked grave. ‘ ‘ When civilization reaches 
that point,” said he in his deep, deliberate voice, and with 
that dragging Italian accent of his which somehow lent a 
certain solemnity to his word§, “ it will be upon the verge 
of falling back into barbarism. I grant you that, in your 
case, divorce might be permissible, because you have no 
family ; but one must consider the result of divorce in 
general. The family is sacred, and God knew what he 
was about when He ordained that it should be so.” 

He raised his hat as he pronounced the words “'Le bone 
Diou , ” and that simple action atoned for a colloquial 
method of expressing himself which bordered upon irrev- 
erence. 

But the Countess, who had never really recovered from 
the sorrow which had fallen upon her at the time of her 
baby’s death, and who may have been dimly aware that 
she would never have left her husband if her baby had 
lived, turned upon him with a gesture of exasperation. 

“Do you know,” said she, “that there are moments 
when you are insupportable ? There is a crying lack of 
good taste about you which displays itself in your habit 
of wearing bright blue neckties and in fifty other ways. 
Try to cure yourself of it. I admit that you waste your 
time by aping the fin de siecle manner which you some- 
times attempt to borrow from your Parisian friends ; but 
you might at least recognize how grotesquely incongruous 
it is for a man who has the air of an ennobled brigand to 
talk like a village cure. ” 

“Since I have the misfortune to displease you, madame, 


184 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


I will withdraw,” answered Leonforte, rising at once and 
suiting the action to the word. They had these little dis- 
agreements from time to time — -disagreements which were 
invariably followed by a humble petition for forgiveness 
on his part, and a laughing assurance on hers that she had 
no cause of quarrel with him. As a matter of fact, she 
generally ceased to think about him as soon as he was out 
of sight ; and on this occasion she was enabled to dis- 
miss him from her mind all the more rapidly because he 
had hardly left her when a visitor was announced who 
proved a good deal more interesting than he had been. 

It may perhaps be remembered that the occasion which 
had struck the Countess as opportune for the severance of 
her connection with Douglas Colbornehad been upon one 
which he had left her in order to fulfil a political engage- 
ment under the roof of his powerful neighbor Lord Wink- 
field, and that his wife’s unceremonious refusal to accom- 
pany him had given just umbrage to her would-be hostess. 
Now, it so happened that Lady Winkfield was not at all 
a nice old lady, and that she prided herself, as disagree- 
able and eminently respectable persons of both sexes 
often do, upon her inveterate disregard of the first prin- 
ciples of Christianity. She was wont to affirm, compla- 
cently and truthfully, that she never forgot a slight or an 
injury, and never allowed an opportunity to slip of paying 
back those who had slighted or injured her in their own 
coin, adding, if possible, to this discharge of her debts', a 
trifle extra by way of interest. Therefore it was that, 
being at Cannes for a month or two, having heard some- 
thing and guessed more as to the unsatisfactory state of 
Mr. Colborne’s domestic affairs, and having likewise been 
informed that the Countess Radna was temporarily dom- 
iciled at Nice, she did not grudge the trouble of a railway 
journey for the purpose of calling upon the latter lady and 
saying a few amiable things to her. She was a tall, spare 
old woman, with gray hair, a very long nose and thin lips, 
which wreathed themselves into an acid smile as she held 
out her hand, remarking that neighbors eft home became 
doubly neighbors when they encountered one another in 
a foreign land. 

“ I am only here for a few hours’ shopping,” she ex- 
plained ; “ but as soon as I was told that you were in the 
placeT thought I must find time just to run up and see 
you. I do hope you are feeling better, notwithstanding 


THE GOUNTESS RADNA. 


>85 

these bitter winds, which I believe are much worse at Nice 
than they are at Cannes. Of course you have come south 
for your health, which, I remember, was causing- your 
husband some uneasiness when he was kind enough to 
spend a night wdth us in the country. I can well under- 
stand how wretched it must be for you to be separated 
from him ; still health is the first consideration. Every- 
thing must necessarily give way to that.” 

Now the Countess was really and truly unwell ; she had 
fretted herself of late into something very nearly resem- 
bling an illness, and Dr. Schott, had he been called upon to 
do so, would willingly have signed a medical certificate 
to that effect. Consequently, she might have adopted the 
plea ironically offered to her, and she might possibly have 
taken this prudent course, had she not detected the irony, 
and despised her visitor. As it was, she saw fit to reply 
calmly : 

‘ ‘ I am enchanted to see you, Lady Winkfield, though 
I can’t pretend to have deserved the pleasure by having 
anything in the world the matter with me. I came to Nice 
simply with the hope of amusing myself, and, as my 
anticipations were not extravagant, I have escaped any 
profound disappointment. At all events, I am not in the 
least wretched.” 

Lady Winkfield contorted her features into a grimace 
which was designed to express surprise mingled with 
regret. “Oh, I didn’t know,” said she, with a marked 
inflection of chilliness. And then : “ Mr. Colborne has 
written to you, no doubt, about the great sensation which 
has been caused by his speech in the House. Everybody 
says he is the coming man, and, although Lord Winkfield 
naturally thinks it rather imprudent for so young a member 
to dictate to his chiefs, he quite admits that the speech 
was a striking one. To confess the whole truth, we both 
suspected that it had been inspired by you.” 

“ I am innocent,” answered the Countess, smiling ; 
“ so innocent that I scarcely know what it is all about. 
Certainly I know nothing from my husband, who, strange 
as it may appear to you, has not written to me upon the 
subject. ” 

Lady Winkfield looked more concerned than ever. 

‘ ‘ Ah, ” she murmured ; ‘ *' then I am afraid it must have 
been Miss Rowley after all. She has always been ambi- 
tious on his behalf, as you know, and I doubt whether her 


1 86 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


counsels are altogether wise. Notoriety, you see, isn't 
quite the same thing as power ; that is what Lord Wink- 
field has said all along. I can’t help regretting it ; but I 
suppose it is almost inevitable that Mr. Colborne should 
fall under her influence now that you are away from 
him.” 

“Oh, I should think so,” answered the Countess, imper- 
turbably. “ Most of us are under the influence of some- 
body or something, are we not ? — even you yourself, 
perhaps ? I really see no reason why my husband should 
not be under the influence of Miss Rowley, faute de mieux” 

“Well,” assented Lady Winkfield, with the same air of 
meditative regret, “ if you speak only of political influence 
— though even in that respect I should have been inclined 
to think that his own judgment would have been a safer 
guide. But unhappily, people will never believe in platonic 
friendship, and when a public man openly surrenders his 
independence to a lady who is not his wife, and with 
whom he is known to be upon terms of the closest intimacy, 
unpleasant things are sure to be said. Pray don’t imagine 
that I attach the slightest importance to idle gossip ; I 
never listen to it and always do all I can to discourage it. 
Still, it does go on, and I must say that, if I were you, and 
if my health didn’t require me to remain abroad, I should 
go home without loss of time.” 

Lady Winkfield got the snub which she had invited ; but 
she did not mind that, because she perceived that she had 
likewise attained her object. It was all very well for the 
Countess to affect indifference and amusement ; it was all 
very well for her to hint, in the politest terms, that there 
are certain forms of impertinence which hardly merit the 
honor of a rebuke, and to maintain an animated conver- 
sation for ten minutes upon matters of a less personal de- 
scription ; but the shot had evidently gone straight to its 
mark all the same, and Lady Winkfield took her leave 
eventually with the comforting conviction that she had not 
wasted her time. 

The shot had found its mark ; such shots invariably do 
find their mark, which, indeed, Is not much more easy to 
miss than a haystack at twenty paces. The Countess 
might have ceased to love her husband ; she might have 
discovered that he was not at all what she had once im- 
agined him to be, and she might have no intention, how- 
ever remote, of submitting herself again to his authority ; 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


187 

but, since she was a woman, she could not possibly help 
being furious with him for having ceased to love her, and 
still more furious with him for having found such speedy 
consolation. That she had foreseen the whole thing did 
not mend matters ; one may foresee a hundred infamies 
and be none the less disgusted by them when one’s pre- 
vision is verified. The Countess would have been a shade 
less disgusted, it may be, if her husband had chosen to 
avenge himself in some more openly scandalous fashion ; 
what was so intolerable to her was her conviction that he 
had not done, and would not do, anything scandalous at 
all — that he would merely deplore his error in having 
married the wrong woman, and would never transgress 
the bounds of that consolatory friendship which brought 
him into daily contact with the right one. When on the 
following morning Leonforte called to express, as usual, 
his penitence for having forgotten himself so far as to lose 
his temper with her, she interrupted him by exclaiming : 

“For Heaven’s sake don’t apologize on that score ! If 
you had no temper to lose, or if, having one, you could 
•always control it, you would be no better than an English- 
man. Every now and then you make me lose mine by 
grotesquely inappropriate speeches ; but when the worst 
has been said of you that can be said, it must still be ac- 
knowledged, that you are at least no hypocrite.” 

After that, the innate hypocrisy of the Countess’s hus- 
band had, of course, to be exposed, and was exposed. The 
narrator’s irritation was in some measure soothed by the 
wrath to which her narrative moved her hearer ; but she 
was a little taken aback by the authoritative judgment 
which that hot-blooded young man ultimately pronounced 
upon the whole situation. 

“You must be delivered from this despicable fellow,” 
said he, decisively. “Yes ; that must certainly be done ; 
and, if I am not to have the pleasure of shooting him or 
running him through the body, nothing remains except a 
divorce. I will contrive it for you ; it is not impossible ; 
marriages have been annulled before now by the Holy 
Father— and I have an uncle who is a Cardinal-Arch- 
bishop ” 

He did not notice Yds companion’s irrepressible merri- 
ment ; he was gazing straight before him, with a frown upon 
his brow, and had lost sight of the present in his eagerness 
to forecast the future. 


iS8 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


“ Yes, ” he resumed : “it is not impossible — not at all 
impossible — that you may some day be free. And when 
you are, I may venture — you will allow me, perhaps, to 
say what I must not say yet — you will allow me to ” 

“I will allow nothing at all,” interrupted the Countess, 
with a sudden change of mood ; “I will not even allow 
you the privilege of meddling with my affairs, which you 
are so kind as to accept in advance. You exceed every 
limit- of legitimate farce with your Cardinal-archbishops ! 
Are you really unaware that we live in the latter part of 
the nineteenth century and that the law has long ago given 
up, as a work of supererogation, snapping its fingers at the 
Church ! The English law is tolerably accommodating in 
the matter of divorce, but it insists upon the proof of cer- 
tain causes which I should be unable to allege if I wanted 
a divorce. I do not, however, remember having told you 
that I wanted one.” 

“I ask pardon for my presumption,” returned Leonforte 
quite humbly ; “ but what would you have ? I am, as you 
have so often told me, only half civilized ; I have not learnt 
when to speak and when to be silent. When I know that 
you do not love this man to whom you are bound, when 
I know that he does not love you, and that he has insulted 
you, and when I know that I myself ” 

The Countess stopped him with an imperative gesture. 
“This is one of the times when you would do better to 
be silent,” said she. “You have perhaps said a little too 
much as it is, and if I had not already made up my mind to 
leave Nice, your remarks would have gone a long way 
towards making it up for me. Decidedly you are too 
primitive.” 

“You are going to leave Nice!” exclaimed the Mar- 
chese in dismay. “But why? — and where will you go 
then ? ” 

“The climate does not suit me ; Dr. Schott is persuaded 
that it is doing me more harm than good — that is why. 
Most likely I shall go to Rome in the first instance ; then, 
perhaps, to the Italian lakes ; then to Hungary ; and finally 
to Paris.” 

“ And what is to become of me after you are gone ? ” 

“You can't expect me to return a positive answer to such 
a question ; but I can give you a negative one. You will 
not follow me.” 

“Is that a command? ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


189 

“ If you please. Seriously, and to speak in as plain and 
primitive terms as you could desire, it is necessary for me 
to exercise a little circumspection. We have been good 
friends, and, with your permission, we will part good 
friends. Nothing is more evident to me than that the 
moment has arrived for us to part. But don't look so sad 
about it. After all, Monte Carlo remains to you — not to 
mention ten more good years of youth.” 

“Ah,” he ejaculated, “you don’t know me ! — you don’t 
know me ! ” 

She knew him well enough to be sorry for him, and she 
thought that she also knew him well enough to know that 
her sorrow was superfluous. An Italian might be more 
deserving of pity than an Englishman, because an Italian 
does at least feel for the time being ; but northerners and 
southerners, young and old, civilized and uncivilized, all 
men were the same, and it was no more worth while to 
commiserate them than to be angry with them. Never- 
theless, it seemed worth while to cheer up this disconso- 
late member of an inconstant sex by remarking : 

“I shall be in Paris in April or May — Avenue Friedland. 
But before that time you will probably have forgotten that 
you went near to fracturing your skull at my door during 
the winter. Who remembers the details of an illness from 
which he has recovered ? ” 

If the Marchese di Leonforte did not succeed in convinc- 
ing his hostess and benefactress that he had an exception- 
ally tenacious memory, it was not owing to any lack of 
powerful and picturesque language on his part. He was 
not altogether despairing when he left her ; though doubt- 
less, he would have been so had he known with what 
promptitude his eloquence was effaced from the tablets of 
her memory. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE HORRIBLE GALASHIELS CREATURE'. 

“ Really, I can’t help it,” said Lady Burcote. “I’m as 
economical as I can be, and a great deal more economical 
than you are ; but butchers and grocers and people of that 
sort must be paid occasionally. Otherwise they might 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


190 

refuse to supply us with food any longer ; and you wouldn’t 
like that, I suppose ? ” 

“But five hundred pounds all at once ! ” remonstrated 
the lady’s husband. “You surely don’t mean to tell me 
that the household bills reach that figure ! ” 

“They reach three figures, at all events, and there is 
always such a bother about getting any money out of you 
that one doesn’t want to go through it oftener than one 
can help.” 

Lord Burcote sighed heavily, opened the drawer of the 
writing-table before which he was seated, drew out his 
check-book and scribbled off a check for the required 
amount. He was a small, lean man, slightly underhung 
and clean shaven, save for a thread of gray whisker which 
he wore on either side of his face, like a coachman. 

“It’s all very fine, Selina,” he remarked, as he handed 
the slip of paper to the rouged, yellow-haired lady who 
stood beside him, “to talk about the difficulty of getting 
money out of me ; but what the deuce is a man to do when 
he can’t get his rents paid, and when he is burdened with 
such an abominably expensive family ? ” 

“I don’t know,” answered Lady Burcote unsympathet- 
ically. “Borrow a trifle from his sons-in-law, I should 
think.” 

“You don’t seem to be very well acquainted with my 
S.ons-in-law, Selina ; though you did take such a lot of 
trouble to secure them for me. I wish you would secure 
some nice, rich, open-handed fellow for Florry ! ” 

“ I am doing my best. There is young Lord Galashiels, 
for instance, who is coming to dinner next Thursday and 
who is simply rolling in wealth.” 

“ He is a horrid young cad.” 

“Oh, of course. It isn’t in the nature of things that he 
would be rolling in wealth, still less that he would be open- 
handed with it, if he were anything else. Such as he is, 
we certainly can’t afford to despise him. ” 

“ H’m ! Well, I suppose not. Isn’t it on Thursday that 
you have a crush ? ” 

“Yes ; after the dinner. Why? ” 

“Only because Colborne, the young man who is going 
to upset the coach, asked me if I could get him an invita- 
tion for it.” 

“ Oh, he has been invited already ; I sent him a card 
ten days ago.” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


91 


“ Yes ; but he wants one for a cousin of his — a musical 
fellow, who sang with Florry somewhere or other and is 
going to sing with her again at that big charity perform- 
ance which the Duchess of Brentford is getting up. What 
was his name? I know I wrote it down. Oh, yes; Innes 
— Frank Innes. Any objection to him? ” 

Lady Burcote reflected. “ None that I know of,” she 
answered presently ; “I never heard of him before. If 
Florry sang with him, it must have been at Peggy Rowleys 
in the winter, and Peggy is a good deal more particular 
than the Duchess. Let him come if he wants to come. 
What address ? ” 

“I haven't the slightest idea ; you had better post the 
card to Colborne.” 

Such are the advantages of comparative obscurity and 
of relationship to a politician whose mind is too much 
occupied with affairs of State to recall bygone social trivi- 
alities. It was only as a forlorn hope that Frank Innes 
had petitioned his cousin for that invitation, and he had 
been very agreeably surprised by the readiness with which 
his request had been acceded to. The fact was that 
Douglas had completely forgotten the existence of Lady 
Florence Carey, and had only thought of her father as one 
of the influential personages with whom he had lately been 
brought into political contact. He forwarded the wished- 
for card to its destination, together with a half-sheet of 
note-paper, upon which he had hastily scribbled : “Here 
is your ticket of admission to Lady Burcote's. I shouldn't 
think it was worth much more than a sandwich and a glass 
of inferior champagne, although I am told that everybody 
is to be there, except myself. From what I hear, I expect 
I shall have to spend the best part of the night in the 
House.” 

Now it was a matter of no great moment to Frank Innes 
that he was likely to be debarred from encountering his 
cousin in Eaton Square, where Lord and Lady Burcote 
resided, nor did he very much care whether he wa^ 
destined to encounter everybody else there or' not. One 
person he was quite certain to meet ; and so moderate 
was his ambition that he asked for nothing more than that 
delightful certainty. What he did not know, and what he 
would have been overjoyed if he had known, was that 
that person was almost as eager to shake hands with him 
again as he was to shake hands with her. Lady Florence 


192 


THE QOUNTESS RADNA. 


Carey had not gone the length of falling in love with the 
young man with whom she had had a sort of incipient flir- 
tation some months before, and who had found an excuse 
for writing her several very prettily worded notes since : 
but she liked him, and she was glad to hear that he had 
taken the trouble to get himself invited to their house. 
Moreover, she did not at all like Lord Galashiels, whose 
bride she was well aware that she was fated to become, 
unless some means could be discovered of choking him off 
ere he committed himself to a formal proposal. 

Lord Galashiels would not, in truth, have struck any- 
body as a promising candidate for the hand of a beautiful 
and highly-born young lady if he had not been Lord 
Galashiels ; but, being what he was, no pretensions could 
seem too extravagant for him to entertain. His father 
had been given a baronetcy and then a peerage. for reasons 
which, during the last hundred years, have always been 
deemed amply sufficient — namely, that Messrs. James 
Dalziel and Co. had amassed a colossal fortune by strict 
attention to their business of manufacturing woollen 
cloth and hosiery. He himself had neither toiled nor spun, 
there having been no necessity for him to employ his 
time in that way ; but he had been educated at Eton and 
Christ Church ; he had assimilated, not without some 
measure of success, the tastes and occupations of the 
aristocracy, and if he did not resemble the lilies of the 
field in point of beauty, he was upon a footing of absolute 
equality with them so far as uselessness went. At the 
age of five-and-twenty he was a thick-set, blunt-featured, 
red-headed young man, who kept his red hair as closely 
cropped to his head as the scissors would go, dressed unex- 
ceptionably, could just manage to express his ideas, when 
he had any, intelligibly, rather fancied himself as an athlete, 
and ate and drank more than an athlete has any business 
to do. His intelligence had been equal to the discovery 
that Lady Burcote desired to ensnare him, and his appre- 
ciation of Lady Florence’s attractions had led him to the 
conclusion that he might do a great deal worse than allow 
himself to be ensnared. Consequently he was much 
better pleased to find himself seated beside the latter lady 
at her father’s dinner-table than she herself was with 
an arrangement which had cost Lady Burcote no slight 
exercise of ingenuity. 

“So you’re going to have a reception this evening, I 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


193 


hear," said he, addressing his left-hand neighbor as soon 
as he could decently turn his right shoulder towards the 
dowager whom he had escorted downstairs. ‘ ‘ Rather slow 
things, receptions ; don't you think so ? Why didn’t you 
give us a dance? ” 

“ Because dances cost too much, I suppose/' answered 
Lady Florence. ‘'Do you mean to say that you like 
dancing? I should have thought you would have hated 
it." 

Lord Galashiels had to reflect seriously for several sec- 
onds before the possible reason of her having conceived 
so mistaken an impression dawned upon him. When it 
did he refrained (for he was of a choleric temperament, 
and had learnt how foolish it is to lose control over your- 
self and respond to provocative remarks) from answering 
that he believed he danced about as well as other fellows. 
He only said, with much point and emphasis: “I like 
dancing with you.” 

“Although it is utterly out of my power to make my 
step fit in with yours ? Well, I’m immensely flattered, and 
very sorry that I can’t offer you a chance of treading upon 
my toes to-night. Duty will keep me at home until bed- 
time ; you, of course, will go bn to the Plymouths’ ball 
immediately after dinner." 

Lord Galashiels replied that he had no such intention ; 
and indeed, if the girl had had a little more experience, 
she would have known that snubs were far more likely to 
stimulate the ardor of her obnoxious admirer than to ex- 
tinguish it. Perhaps he was afraid that she did not fully 
realize how great a sacrifice he was prepared to make for 
the pleasure of enjoying her society ; for he took some 
trouble, to explain that, although Lady Plymouth always 
did things awfully well, and although several people had 
begged him to make a point of turning up at the ball, he 
proposed to disappoint both her ladyship and them. Only 
a woman of mature years, sharp discernment and ready 
wit can hope to pierce the heavy armor of self-esteem 
which protects such dullards as Lord Galashiels ; Lady 
Florence, being devoid of these advantages, could think 
of nothing better to do than to yawn in his face, and he 
didn’t mind that a bit. 

He joined her after dinner, smelling very strongly of 
tobacco,' and clung to her while the rooms began to fill, 
regardless of her evident inattention to what he was say- 

l 3 


i 9 4 


THE COUNTESS RADNA 


mg. To be sure, he was not saying anything of much 
importance. He had dined well ; he was contented with 
himself and with the world at large ; it did not greatly 
signify whether she agreed with him or contradicted him, 
so long as he could remain in close proximity to her and 
stare her out of countenance. Perhaps he would have been 
less easily satisfied if he had known why the brown eyes 
which refused to meet his were so steadily fixed upon the 
doorway, and perhaps he might even have condescended 
to be a little bit annoyed had he noticed how those same 
eyes brightened when a rather good-looking young man 
shouldered his way at length through the throng in response 
to a hardly perceptible signal from Lady Florence. He 
might, if he had been sufficiently on the alert to discern 
all this, have fancied that Lady Florence was in love with 
the Mr. Innes whom she was presently good enough to 
introduce to him ; only he would have been quite mis- 
taken in leaping to that conclusion ; so that it was in all 
respects fortunate that he remained free from any suspicion 
of the kind. 

As for Lady Florence, she hastened to explain candidly 
to Frank Innes why it 'Cvas that she had begged him to 
take her downstairs for a cup of tea. 

“I don’t want any tea,” said she, “ and you can see 
for yourself that we might as well try to fly as to make 
our way into the dining-room in the face of the infuriated 
rabble which is storming the staircase. I only wanted 
to escape from that horrible Galashiels creature. ” 

“ Who is the horrible Galashiels creature? ” asked 
Frank. 

“Oh, you know — blankets, or something of that sort. 
I am not sure ; but I think he is rather stupefied by drink 
this evening. At all events, he hasn’t attempted to follow 
us ; so now we can wriggle into a corner somewhere 
and talk. I’m so glad you got mamma to send you an 
invitation. How did you manage it ? ” 

Frank was slightly surprised to hear that Lady Florence 
knew so little about her mother’s hospitable arrangements ; 
but he told her who had procured his invitation for him, 
and ventured to add that, if he had failed to obtain it 
through his cdusin, he would have moved heaven and 
earth to obtain it from somebody else. 

“ I really couldn’t have gone on existing in the same 
city with you without meeting you somehow or some- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


J 95 

where, ” he declared. “ I suppose you know that we are 
going to sing together at the Duchess of Brentford’s ? ” 

Lady Florence had been made aware of that pleasing 
circumstance, and saw no reason why she should not 
openly avow what pleasure had been afforded to her by 
the information. With equal naivete she proceeded to 
inquire, “What made them ask you? Do you know 
the Duchess ? ” 

“ Never set eyes upon her,” answered the young man ; 
‘ ‘ but I presume that she must know me by reputation, 
and when I heard that you were to be one of her troupe I 
graciously consented to do my little best for her. There 
was no occasion for her to be as grateful as she professed 
to be in a note which she kindly addressed to me, because, 
setting all other considerations aside, I shall gain a pretty 
good advertisement by appearing in this show. I forget 
whether I ever told you that I look forward to becoming 
a professional songster and making my fortune at the 
trade. ” 

Lady Florence was much interested. She wanted to 
know what was the average income of the professional 
songster ; also she had many questions to ask about Mr. 
Innes’s actual position and duties ; likewise, she gave 
him to understand that, if these permitted of his calling 
some afternoon and coaching her as to the accurate 
interpretation of the part assigned to her in the Duchess 
of Brentford’s projected operatic comedy, she would be 
very pleased indeed to see him. 

“Only,” she observed at the conclusion of a somewhat 
prolonged dialogue, “ you will have to make friends with 
mamma first. You have been introduced to her, I 
suppose ? ” 

Frank confessed that he had not as yet been so- far 
favored ; whereupon Lady Florence promptly led him off 
to repair the omission. There was some trouble about 
finding Lady Burcote, who was at length discovered in a 
d»m recess, relating piquant anecdotes behind her fan to 
an elderly gentleman with a waxed and dyed mustache ; 
but there was less trouble than might have been an- 
ticipated about obtaining her consent to Mr. Innes’s look- 
ing in any day and going through an informal rehearsal 
with her daughter. Lady Burcote knew when to be strict 
and when to be lenient ; a mere glance enabled her to 
classify this youth and to place him upon the list of 


f 


196 THE COUNTESS RADNA. 

harmless impossibilities. Moreover, he was a good-look- 
mg youth, and she retained a personal partiality for youth 
and good looks. 

“We are at home on Thursdays, ” she remarked ; “so 
don’t trouble to come on a Thursday. Any other evening 
between six and seven, we shall be delighted. Florry 
dear, I wish you would look for Lord Galashiels and tell 
him not to go away without saying good-night to me. 
I quite forgot to arrange with him about Hurlingham. ” 

As Lady Burcote now retreated once more behind the 
shelter of her fan and resumed her interrupted colloquy, 
Frank felt free to join in Lady Florence’s search for the 
missing nobleman, of whose pretensions he had begun to 
get an inkling. 

“ Didn’t you say,” he ventured to inquire, “that you 
suspected the man of having drunk rather more than was 
good for him ? You oughtn’t to go near him, you know, 
if he is in that condition. I’ll hunt him up and deliver 
your mother’s message.” 

“Drunk or sober,” returned Lady Florence as calmly 
as if she had been making' the most ordinary observation 
in the world, “ I mustn’t shirk him. Mamma is in one of 
her good humors to-night, and if you lived in this house 
you would know how very important it is to keep her in 
a good humor. All sorts of things may ruffle her ; but 
the one thing which is always quite certain to ruffle her 
is disobedience.” 

“Is it an article of your creed to obey.her always and 
under all circumstances ? ” inquired Frank, meaning a little 
more than'he said, and desiring the girl (for, indeed, false 
modesty was not one of his failings) to understand that he 
meant a little more. 

She understood him perfectly well, and she answered, 
with a sudden access of gravity : “Yes, we have been 
brought up in that way. Most likely it is for our good. 
There is Lord Galashiels, looking as cross as a bear ; I 
had better go and smooth him down, and you had better 
not come with me, please. I think, if you can come on 
Saturday, you will be almost sure to find me in, and then 
-we can run through the music.” 

She was gone before he had time to make any rejoinder ; 
nor, indeed, was he particularly eager to make one. He 
had been introduced to Lady Burcote ; the entree had been 
accorded \g him, and he had been pretty plainly told that 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


97 


he was expected to take advantage of his privileges : that 
was not such a bad evening's work, he thought. His self- 
congratulations, however, were somewhat rudely inter- 
rupted when, on his way towards the door, he found him- 
self face to face with Peggy Rowley, who accosted him 
with the uncomplimentary apostrophe of : “ Oh, you disas- 
trous donkey ! ,r " 

“Thank you,” he responded meekly; “no doubt I 
am all that you call me. Why, though? — if one may 
ask. ” 

“One may ask,” returned Peggy, “and one shall be 
answered, if one insists upon it. Only a donkey courts 
disaster by plunging head first over a precipice while his 
best friends have done all they could to hang on to his 
tail up to the last moment. Your young woman is going 
to marry Lord Galashiels, and even if she were not, she 
certainly wouldn’t be going to marry you. I told you how 
it would be ; I'm not a bit sorry for you. Which of your 
brother donkeys was so stupid and unfeeling as to bring 
you here to-night ? ” 

“ Nobody brought me : it was Douglas who got me an 
invitation.” 

“Then he ought to be ashamed of himself. Perhaps it 
is because he is ashamed of himself that he doesn’t show 
his face here. That shall not prevent me from letting him 
know what I think of him, though. ” 

“ Dear Miss Rowley, I am sure you wouldn’t be so ill- 
natured as to stir up additional troubles for me. You 
know very well that I am dreadfully in earnest and that 
I shall have troubles enough to face before I can begin to 
see daylight. Is it really true that they want to marry 
her to Lord Galashiels ? ” 

“Of course it is true ; they have as good as announced 
it. And let me tell you, young man, that your dreadful 
earnestness will get no sort of support or encouragement 
from me. Don’t flatter yourself that I can’t see through 
you. It would be very convenient if I were to ask Flor- 
ence to tea with me every now and then, and if you were 
to happen to drop in while she was there, wouldn’t it ? ” 

“ It would be very mice, ” answered Frank. He added, 
after a moment : “ She hates him, you know.” 

‘ ' Oh, indeed ! — you have ascertained that much ? Well, 
then, she had better refuse him and elope with you. Only 
§he won’t refuse him, and she won’t elope with you, More* 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


198 

over, she won’t come to tea with me, because she won’t 
be asked/’ 

“ At least,” pleaded Frank, “ you might remain benev- 
olently neutral.” 

“ Perhaps I shall ; it will depend upon circumstances. 
Meanwhile, if you were as dreadfully in earnest as you 
pretend to be, you would run away. But it .takes courage 
to run away, and nothing convinces me that you are 
abnormally constant or abnormally courageous.” 

Whatever other qualities he may have possessed or 
lacked, he must, at all events, have been blessed with 
rather more intelligence than the average young man ; 
for he left the house with a very strong impression upon 
his mind that he had secured an ally in Peggy Rowley. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE RIVAL RUNNERS. 

Frank Innes ought to have known a great deal better than 
to suppose that a sensible woman like Miss Rowley could 
ever become his open or active ally in an enterprise so 
preposterous as that of his winning Lady Florence Carey 
for his bride ; still it was to the credit of his intuitive 
sagacity that he had been able to divine, in spite of her 
discouraging language, a subdued inclination on her part to 
back him up. The truth was that Peggy, in common with 
all the best of her sex, was at heart romantic, and could 
not possibly help sympathizing with the poverty-stricken 
young lover in that ever-recurring drama which has for 
its remaining personages a fair maiden, a pair of worldly 
parents and an unattractive, eligible suitor. At the same 
time she was fully minded to keep her sympathy to her- 
self, and doubtless she would have done so had it not been 
for the violent animosity which it was the misfortune of 
Lord Galashiels to arouse against himself in her breast. 

“Oh, if it is any satisfaction to you to know that I can’t 
stand the man, you are welcome to that satisfactory 
knowledge,” she said to Frank some weeks later. “He 
is a swaggering cad ; he has a nasty, sulky temper ; he is 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


99 


ugly ; he is stupid ; he is anything you like. Nevertheless, 
there is no blinking the lamentable fact that he can give 
you a long start and a beating.” 

“So he seems to think,” observed Frank. “He has 
offered to run me a hundred, two hundred, and three 
hundred yards, and to back himself at two to one for any 
amount I like to name.” 

“ Has he really? ” asked Peggy, with some animation. 
“ But surely you ought to be able to get away from him ! 
Why, he’s as fat as a pig and the color of an orange ! ” 

“ Oh, of course he isn’t in condition — nor am I, for that 
matter— but I believe he can run. All the same, I shouldn't 
mind taking him up, if we could arrange a little friendly 
meeting somewhere or other about Easter. The difficulty 
is to find a place suitable for the purpose.” 

Peggy burst out laughing. “ Naturally,” said she, 
“ you can’t be aware that Florence Carey has promised to 
spend Easter with me at Swinford, and I suppose such an 
idea never entered your head as that Lord Galashiels 
might also be my guest, much less that Peter Chervil 
might be induced to measure out a course in the park for 
a possible athletic contest. Now, look here, young man : 
you may come if you like, only you must be good enough 
to begin training this very moment, and unless you win 
every one of the three events I'll be the death of you ! 
Don't misunderstand me ; I told you before, and I tell 
you again, that you haven’t the ghost of a chance against 
him in other respects. It is for Florence’s sake, not for 
yours, that I want Lord Galashiels to-be discomfited. I 
shall be delighted if she can summon up courage to send 
him about his business ; I should be very far from being 
delighted if she were to dream of regarding you as his 
substitute. But it is really inconceivable that she should 
indulge in such dreams as that ; so I feel no scruple about 
employing you as a cat’s-paw, subject to your consent. 
Do you consent? I wouldn’t if I were you.” 

By the time that this colloquy took place a good many 
things had happened. Frank and Lady Florence had met 
frequently and had rehearsed their parts together, with the 
full consent of Lady Burcote, who considered the young 
amateur to be omni suspicione minor ; a dull dawning of 
jealousy had begun to illumine the muddy mind of Lord 
Galashiels ; while, as for Miss Rowley, it had become 
evident to her that she was at least not bound to exercise 


2 00 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


a greater degree of discretion than was deemed necessary 
by the parents of his lordship’s destined bride. Moreover, 
she abhorred Lord Galashiels. 

Consequently, she said no more than has been recorded 
above to dissuade Frank Innes from profiting by an invi- 
tation which he had virtually asked for, nor did she see 
the slightest harm in hoping with all her heart that he 
will prove the factor in the coming strife. “I shall speak 
to Lady Burcote about it, so that nobody will be able to 
accuse me of underhand conduct,” she reflected, by way 
of setting' herself perfectly straight with her conscience. 
A similar praiseworthy motive prompted her to invite 
Douglas Colborne to spend the Easter recess under her 
roof. If Lord and Lady Burcote were responsible for their 
daughter, Mr. Colborne might be held more or less re- 
sponsible for his cousin. In any case, no responsibility 
could fairly be laid upon her shoulders. 

Douglas, however, was compelled to decline his neigh- 
bor’s alluring offer. There was to be no rest for him that 
Easter, he told her ; he had undertaken to address several 
meetings in the North of England ; after which he would 
be due at the house of a Cabinet Minister, whose invita- 
tion was almost equivalent to a command. 

“In other words,” observed Peggy, laughing, “you 
are becoming much too sublime a personage to waste 
your time upon the likes of us. Go your way, then, and 
prosper. All I beg of you is that you won’t allow yourself 
to be insidiously lured to your ruin by accepting the Chief 
Secretaryship for Ireland. Whatever you do, bear in mind 
always that your friends desire nothing more ardently just 
at present than to destroy your reputation.” 

This, of course, was meant as a joke, and taken as 
such ; yet there was a spice of earnestness beneath it. 
The eyes of many persons not less quick-sighted than Miss 
Rowley were watching the development of Douglas Col- 
borne’s career, and not all of them were as benevolently 
disposed towards him as she was. Peggy, who flattered 
herself that she knew the tricks of the game, was divided 
between admiration of his independent attitude and fears 
lest he should either grow too independent to be tolerated, 
or else submit, in an unguarded moment, to be muzzled 
by taking the subordinate office which, she felt pretty sure, 
would be offered to him as soon as a vacancy occurred. 
She did not meet him very often— he had little leisure for 


THE COUNTESS A' A UNA. 


201 


social intercourse — but every now and then they had talks 
together which he gradually came to anticipate and to look 
back upon as the brightest incidents in his present busy 
life. Peggy’s shrewdness and kindliness, and her quick 
comprehension of his ideas were delightful to him • it was 
very pleasant to know that she was not only ambitious 
on his behalf, but perfectly understood how free he was 
from ambition in any bad sense of the term. In a word, 
she was his best friend — perhaps his only real friend — and 
he sometimes thought to himself, with a smile and a sigh, 
that the lamentations of Loo were as excusable as lamen- 
tations ever are. No doubt it was a pity that he couldn’t 
have fallen in love with Peggy Rowley and she with him ; 
no doubt, too, it was a pity that he had not managed to 
retain the love, or even the friendship, of his wife. But 
he was too much preoccupied with work and engagements 
of various kinds to linger over thoughts like these — too 
much preoccupied also to trouble himself greatly about 
Frank Innes, whose classic method of pitting himself 
against a rival suitor struck him as more comic than 
serious. 

Now it would be affirming rather too much to say that 
Frank himself expected Lady Florence to bestow either her 
heart or her hand upon the successful competitor in three 
foot-races ; but he was very serious indeed in his deter- 
mination to win each and all of those contests ; and when 
— all preliminary arrangements having been satisfactorily 
concluded — the time came for him to encounter his an- 
tagonist, he was about as fit for the trial of speed as he’ 
could be made. 

Peggy had got together a rather numerous and very 
merry house-party. In the programme of the amusements 
provided for her guests she had been careful not to assign 
too prominent a place to the amicable struggle between 
Lord Galashiels and Mr. Innes ; but she meant them all to 
witness it, and she had likewise made some casual efforts 
to enlist their sympathies on Frank’s side. That much 
could, in fact, have been accomplished without any effort 
at all ; for Lord Galashiels was not popular. 

It ought not to be beyond the capacity of a disinterested 
looker-on to sympathize with any actor in the varying yet 
monotonous human comedy, so that some faint sympathy 
may possibly be felt for a red-haired young man of vast 
po§§§§§jgns who fondly imagined that he had only to wish 


202 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


for a thing in order to obtain it. It was scarcely Lord 
Galashiel’s fault that he was the victim of a delusion not 
uncommon amongst men of va^t possessions ; he had, 
after due consideration, finally made up his mind that he 
wished to marry Lady Florence Carey ; and he naturally 
did not suppose that his power to run a little faster than a 
Government clerk would affect his chances with her one 
way or the other. Nevertheless, he intended to exercise 
a power of which he entertained no doubt (for he had been 
a brilliant performer during his University career, and 
Fiank Innes had latterly become a bore to him), and so 
confident was he as to results that he had not taken the 
trouble to go through any strict process of preparation. 

The consequence was that he was beaten with almost 
ridiculous ease at all three distances, and that he was 
scarcely less amazed by his own defeat than by the noisy 
and unanimous applause which greeted his successful 
rival. It must, however, be said for him that he accepted 
his triple defeat in a sportsmanlike spirit and paid up his 
forfeited stake with equal promptitude and good-humor. 

“ Serves me right for being so cock-sure,” he remarked 
to Lady Florence Carey, whom he joined after the specta- 
tors had dispersed and were strolling away in knots of 
twos and threes across the sunlit undulations of the park. 
“One doesn’t expect a singing fellow to be a running 
fellow, you know. I could have polished him off without 
much trouble if I had known that he had ever been taught 
how to move his legs.” 

“Hadn’t you better try again, then?” suggested tjie 
girl. “I dare say he will be happy to oblige you. At all 
events, I wouldn’t brag of what I could do until I had done 
it if I were you.” 

“I wasn’t bragging ; I was simply stating a fact,” 
returned Lord Galashiels, who, as has been mentioned 
before, had a temper, and who did not quite like her tone. 

‘ ‘ The fact of the matter is, ” he added, ‘ * that your friend is 
a bit too bumptious to suit me, and if I could have taken 
some of the conceit out of him I shouldn’t have been 
sorry. ” 

‘ ‘ He doesn’t seem to have taken the conceit out of you, ” 
remarked Lady Florence. 

“Bless your soul, I’m not conceited ! I know what I 
can do when I’m in training, that’s all ; and I quite admit 
that I was an ass not to train. I’ll tell you what it is, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


203 

Lady Florence.” continued Lord Galashiels with the air of 
one who is strong enough to afford occasional admissions 
of weakness, “ I believe I only wanted to take that fellow 
down a peg or two because he has a habit of being so 
confoundedly in the way. It’s rather a nuisance, don’t 
you see, to find him howling and screeching at the piano 
every time . one goes to Eaton Square in the hope of get- 
ting a quiet chat with you. ” 

“Is it really ? ” asked Lady Florence, turning her eyes 
on those of her companion, which she had hitherto res- 
olutely refused to meet. “Then, if I can secure him, he 
shall howl and screech as often and as long as he has 
breath to do it. Judging by his performance to-day, his 
lungs are tolerably sound, and as far as quiet chats go, I 
trust I may say without offence that I would rather chat 
quietly with him than with you.” 

That assertion was undoubtedly designed to give offence, 
but nothing was further from the intention of the speaker 
to provoke the rejoinder which immediately ensued. 

“ If you mean what you say,” retorted Lord Galashiels, 
sharply, “ I’ll be off like a shot ; I’m sure I don't want to 
thrust myself upon anybody who prefers my room to my 
company. But you don’t mean it,” he went on in milder 
accents ; “you must know very well why I don’t enjoy 
seeing you talk to other fellows, even if they are only 
amateur actors, like Innes, and perhaps the best plan is 
to put the extinguisher upon such little worries once for 
all. Lady Florence, I love you, and I want you to be my 
wife, if you’ll have me.” 

The tone in which the above plain declaration was 
enunciated was inimitable and indescribable. ** King 
Cophetua, stepping down from his throne to meet the 
barefooted beggar-maid, could not have been more 
gracefully deferential or more condescendingly confident 
than was this absurd result of wool and cotton as he prof- 
fered a share in his affections and his money-bags to the 
representative of some of the oldest blood in England. 
The humor of the situation was not altogether lost upon 
Lady Florence ; but she was prevented from laughing at 
it, first by surprise, secondly by alarm, and thirdly by 
anger. Probably it was the latter emotion which gave 
her courage to refuse Lord Galashiels in language devoid 
of the faintest ambiguity. It wasn’t worth while to give 
him all her reasons she said ; but he might take her word 


204 


TBE COUNTESS A’ A ENA. 


for it that she couldn’t possibly marry him, and she hoped 
that, if he was bent upon marrying, he would look out for 
somebody else. 

He was completely taken aback. At first he was in- 
credulous ; then he in his turn became angry and accused 
her of playing fast and loose with him ; finally, he declared 
that, upon his word and honor, he believed she had 
taken a fancy to that singing beggar, who hadn’t a six- 
pence to jingle on a milestone. But this, of course, was 
only a picturesque hyperbole ; Lord Galashiels would 
never have seriously pledged his word and honor to an 
assertion so far removed from verisimilitude, nor did 
Lady Florence’s dignified retort that she must decline to 
answer wanton insults strike him as a subterfuge. Al- 
though he professed to be deeply wounded, and although, 
when they parted at the door of the house, he assured her 
that she would not be troubled by any renewal of attentions 
which were apparently unwelcome to her, he quite meant 
to give her another chance, and was fully persuaded that 
she would be grateful for it. The best of us are apt occa- 
sionally to affect a humility which we do not mean to be 
interpreted in a strictly literal sense, and how, in the name 
of reason, could Lord Galashiels imagine himself dismissed 
by any sane woman for the sake of a Frank Innes? 

But Lady Florence was as serious as possible and was 
not a little scared at what she had done, into the bargain. 
She could not resist confessing her sin, before the dinner 
hour, to her hostess, who whistled and said : 

‘ ‘ All things considered, my dear, I think you had better 
go home. I shouldn’t care to be in your shoes ; still, I 
suppose you know what you are about.” 

“ How horrid you are ! ” exclaimed Lady Florence, who 
had not expected to be met with so glaring an absence of 
sympathy. “As if you hadn’t arranged those races on 
purpose ! And as if you hadn’t been just as glad as I was 
to see that beast beaten ! ” 

“ Oh, come ! ” returned Peggy ; “let us try to stick to 
the truth, whatever we do. It wasn’t I who arranged the 
races, though I won’t deny that I was glad to witness the 
beating of the beast. I'll go farther, and admit that I’m 
glad to hear of the defeat of the beast by the beauty. 
Only there, if you please, I must draw the line. I’m not 
a fairy godmother ; I can’t convert beggars into princes ; 
I’m not ever* certain that I would if I could ; and I’m per- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


205 


fectly certain that I don’t wish to face your dear mother 
in her tantrums. As for Mr. Innes, he has fulfilled his 
mission and he will quit this hospitable mansion in good 
time to catch the up express to-morrow morning. Don’t 
you fall into the unpardonable error of mistaking me for 
a sentimental idiot.” 

This was all very fine ; but Peggy Rowley was no 
more capable of leaving a distressed friend in the lurch 
than she was of underhand dealing ; so that, before Lady 
Florence was dismissed to encounter her justly incensed 
parents, certain confidences had been exchanged, and cer- 
tain counsels offered which, if Lady Burcote could have 
overheard them, would doubtless have sufficed to provoke 
that lady into a fit of “ tantrums.” 

Frank Innes, for his part, obtained neither confidences 
nor counsels. He was merely told that he had been a 
good boy, that he had done all that had been required of 
him and that he might either leave on the following morn- 
ing or stay on for another week, just as he pleased, since 
Lady Florence’s visit was about to terminate. 

“May I see her before she goes?” asked the young 
man, meekly. 

“Certainly not, if by seeing her you mean seeing her 
'.alone,” answered Peggy. “In fact, I shall take very good 
care that you don’t. I am amazed at your impudence in 
making such a request. All the same, I may as well tell 
you what you have already guessed, that she has refused 
Lord Galashiels this time. Now go away and crow, if 
you want to crow. Goodness knows, you haven’t much 
to crow about ! ” 


CHAPTER XXV. 
frank’s friends stand aside. 

It is manifestly absurd on the part of any hostess to 
declare that she will not permit such a thing as a private 
interview between two of her guests. How on earth is 
she to prevent it, except by sticking like a leech to one of 
them from breakfast-time till bed-time ? — and how can 
she do that, when she is compelled, as she naturally must 


20 6 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


be, to give up a good half-hour out of every morning to 
necessary consultations with the housekeeper ? Frank 
Innes might, no doubt, have been packed off to London 
by the early express ; but, since that precaution had been 
omitted (and it is difficult to believe that the omission 
was wholly accidental), what else could be expected of 
him than that, instead of accompanying the other men 
into the smoking-room after breakfast on the ensuing 
day, he should profit by Peggy’s enforced attention to 
domestic duties to follow Lady Florence into the garden, 
thither she had strayed all by herself? He caught her 
up in a grassy alley, shut in on either side by high hedges 
of privet, and opened the conversation with the remark : 

“I’m so awfully sorry to hear that you are going to 
desert us.” 

“ I’m awfully sorry to have to go,” replied the girl com- 
posedly, ‘ ‘ and my parents will be awfully sorry to see 
me, because they thought I should stay on here until it 
was time for us all to return to London. However, there’s 
no help for it.” 

Frank lighted a cigarette and scrutinized his companion 
from beneath his eyelids while he was doing so. At 
length he made up his mind to be bold, and said : “I 
know why you’re going ; I’ve heard all about it ; I needn’t 
tell you that I’m delighted. All the same, I don’t see 
why his departure shouldn't answer all the purpose, and 
he means to depart at 12.30. He told us so last night.” 

“ Are you sure he said 12.30?” asked Lady Florence. 
“I sincerely trust he did; because the 12.30 is an up 
train. I’m going down the line, and my train starts ten 
minutes later. Heaven forbid that I should run the risk 
of a railway journey with him ! ” 

Frank was able to reassure her. Lord Galashiels was 
certainly'bound for London : he had mentioned in the 
smoking-room that he intended honoring a sale at Tatter- 
sail’s by his presence on the morrow. 

“That's a comfort as far as it goes,” observed Lady 
k lorence with a sigh of relief. ‘ ‘ I want all the comfort 
that I can get, I assure you ! I suppose your intentions 
are amiable when you say you are delighted to hear what 
I have done ; but you little know the delightful experiences 
I have let myself in for ! Oh, what luck it is to be born 
a man ! ” 

“Well, in some ways perhaps it is,” Frank was liberal 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


207 


enough to admit ; “ still, life isn’t all beer and skittles for 
men, especially when they are poor men. Goodness 
knows I have troubles enough, and want any comfort 
that’s going ! I won’t be so ungrateful as to deny, though, 
that it is a huge crumb of comfort to me to know that 
you won’t be bothered any more by that red-headed 
lout. ” 

“Thank you ; but I’m not at all sure that I shan’t be 
bothered any more by him. The only thing that I am 
pretty sure of — but, upon second thoughts, I’m not really 
sure of anything. We won’t talk about it, please.” 

“ I’m sure of something,” remarked Frank, meditatively 
and ruefully ; “only I suppose I mustn’t talk about that 
either. ” 

Lady Florence opined that he had much better not : it 
was always better to avoid unpleasant subjects, she sen- 
sibly observed. The only difficulty was that the banish- 
ment of subjects with which the minds of both of them 
were filled did not leave them very much to talk about, 
and a rather prolonged period of silence supervened. It 
was Lady Florence who broke this at length by saying 
that she must go indoors and tell her maid to pack. She 
added, with that queer mixture of worldly wisdom and 
naivete which was characteristic of her : 

“I hope you’ll be so kind as to keep this to yourself. 
I suppose Miss Rowley must have told you, and I don’t 
mind your having heard ; but one never knows what may 
happen, and if, by any chance, I should have to marry 
Lord Galashiels after all, F shouldn’t want it to have been 
published abroad that I had kicked at starting.” 

“Of course I shan’t breathe a word about the matter to 
anybody except Miss Rowley,” replied Frank. “But — 
but you surely wouldn’t marry him now, would you ? ” 

“Oh, not for choice,” answered the girl, laughing a 
little as she moved away. “There isn’t a great deal of 
picking and choosing allowed in our family, though. So 
much the better for us, I daresay. ” 

He obtained no more explicit intimation of her inten- 
tions than that from her, for at this juncture Peggy sud- 
denly appeared upon the scene, and, taking Lady Florence 
by the arm, led her off towards the house at a smart pace ; 
but perhaps enough had been said. Anyhow, Frank was 
neither dissatisfied nor despondent when, shortly after- 
wards, he was permitted to bid the girl whom he loved 


208 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


farewell, and when she was pleased to say that she hoped 
to meet him again in London ere long. A slight grimace 
and a shrug of her shoulders, as she seated herself in the 
brougham which was waiting for her, helped to convince 
him that he was at least in her confidence, and that she 
did not object to his enjoying that privilege. Very likely 
she didn't care for him ; still it was some comfort to feel 
certain that she did not as yet care for anybody else. 
Lord Galashiels had preceded her to the station in a dog- 
cart, and she had not happened to be downstairs at the 
moment of his departure. 

“ I hope and trust that the trains will be punctual,” said 
Peggy in an undertone as she and Frank stood, side by 
side, gazing after the brougham. “It would be a little 
awkward for them both if they were to meet upon the 
platform ; though, to be sure, they ought by rights to have 
two lines of railway between them. Perhaps Florry may 
be trusted to take care that the company's bye-laws are 
not infringed.” 

“What / hope and trust,” returned the young man, “ is 
that she will take care to keep something much more im- 
passable than a double line of rails between herself and 
him for the future. All the same, I’m afraid she is going 
to have a rough time of it with her people.” 

“There can't be the shadow of a doubt as to that,” said 
Peggy, gravely ; “but I don't pity her. She will live to 
thank me for having preserved her from Lord Galashiels, 
and you will probably live to reproach me for having 
utilized you as a means towards an end which won't be quite 
what you expect it to be. My conscience is at ease, how- 
ever ; I told you plainly that I proposed to employ you 
as a cat's-paw, and you accepted the position of your own 
free will.” 

Whether the latter part of Miss Rowley’s prophecy was 
fulfilled or not will be discovered by those who take suffi- 
cient interest in the present narrative to follow it to its 
end ; but the former portion was hardly so much a proph- 
ecy as the v statement of an obvious fact. Lady Burcote 
could not very well be kept in ignorance of her daughter’s 
contumacy ; and contumacy was precisely the vice — some 
ill-natured people said almost the only vice — which Lady 
Burcote's daughters had never been suffered to exhibit. 
Poor Lady Florence had no thought of deceiving her 
mother ; she was well aware that the thing couldn’t be done ; 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


209 

and when, in fear and trembling, she embraced that 
redoubtable lady, who was staying at a country house in 
Wiltshire, whither it had been arranged that she herself 
should proceed on the termination of her visit to Miss 
Rowley, she did not attempt to beat about the bush, but 
blurted out at once : 

“ Mamma, Lord Galashiels has asked me to marry him, 
and I have told him that I won't.” 

Who does not know the terrible power of unscrupulous 
old women ? Even the scrupulous ones are not altogether 
to be despised as antagonists ; but when they have man- 
aged, as a tolerably large number of them do, to emanci- 
pate themselves from all the restraining influences of mercy 
and pity, they are very apt to sweep everybody and every- 
thing away from the path which they have determined 
to tread. Now, Lady Burcote had determined that Lord 
Galashiels should become her son-in-law, and Lady Flor- 
ence had no weapon to fight her with save that of silent, 
passive resistance. The weapon is not intrinsically a bad 
one, and has often been employed with success ; but, of 
course, nobody has ever gained a victory by wielding it, 
and at the conclusion of an encounter which left Lady Flor- 
ence in a state of moral collapse, she could only find one 
circumstance upon which to congratulate herself — namely, 
that Mr. Innes had not been once mentioned during the 
course of it. Apparently he was too insigqificant to be 
regarded as a possible cause for her irrational and unduti- 
ful conduct. 

But was he the cause thereof? That was the question 
which she put to herself while she was dressing for dinner, 
and she could only assure her conscience, in reply, that 
it didn't in the least matter if he was. Certainly he was 
much better looking, much better mannered, much nicer 
in every way than Lord Galashiels ; but, since he was a 
poor man, he was virtually non-existent ; so that there 
could not be the slightest harm or risk in recognizing the 
attractions which he possessed. She, therefore, permitted 
herself to think about him, to rejoice that there was no 
likelihood of his being peremptorily banished from her 
society, and even to regret that his father was not a wealthy 
Scotch manufacturer, instead of being a penurious Scotch 
laird. 

With her own father, who took her gentty to task on the 
morrow, she had not much trouble. Lord Burcote, like 

x 4 


210 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


the majority of thoroughly selfish men, was good-natured ; 
his children were not afraid of him, nor was he wont to 
deal with them in a tyrannical spirit ; only — as he did not 
fail to point out to Florence after a few mild remonstrances 
— he really couldn’t help it if it was a matter of sheer neces- 
sity for his daughters to marry rich men. Galashiels might 
not be precisely one’s ideal of a preux chevalier , but, after 
all, he was quite decent — quite presentable. “ And you 
know, my deaf girl, it really doesn’t do to be too confound- 
edly particular ; added to which, there are your mother’s 
wishes to be taken into consideration.” 

“ Rather ! ” returned Lady Florence, laughing. “It isn’t 
by me that mamma’s wishes will ever be left out of con- 
sideration — nor by you either, for that matter. It seems 
funny, though, that one shouldn’t be allowed to choose 
one’s own husband, doesn’t it ? ” 

Not so funny as it might appear at first sight, Lord Bur- 
cote thought. In most countries, girls had nothing to say 
to the question, and in most countries marriage turned 
out at least as well as they generally do in England. 1 ‘ It 
stands to reason,” he remarked, “that their parents must 
know a heap of things which they can't possibly know ; 
and, as for falling in love and all that sort of thing, the 
honest truth is that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred 
marriage kills love. Well, then, don’t you see, if you have 
married a beggar because you were in love with him a 
year or two years ago, you are apt to wish that you hadn’t 
been such a fool. Galashiels will always be Galashiels, 
but his money will always be his money, my dear.” 

Lord Burcote was deplorably in the right. His daughter, 
however, would have been worth a great deal less than 
she was had his philosophy found any echo in her heart. 
Her heart was in a dubious condition, and so was her 
mind — they could scarcely have been otherwise, consider- 
ing what her training had been ; still it was becoming more 
and more evident to her that the step which she had taken 
towards self-assertion must not be retraced and that there 
were certain concessions which, advisable as they might 
be in themselves, were not to be exacted from her by any 
human being. Frank Innes was, doubtless, impossible; 
but it did not follow that Lord Galashiels was possible. 

The impossibility of Frank Innes as a candidate for Lady 
Florence Carey’s hand was recognized by nobody more 
unreservedly than by that cousin of his who, besides 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


21 i 


entertaining a sincere affection for him, was minded to 
nominate the young man as'his heir-presumptive. Doug- 
las, when he returned to London, heard all about the races 
in which Lord Galashiels had been so unlucky as to suffer 
defeat and was likewise made aware of the preposterous 
gossip indulged in by some persons who had been his 
lordship’s fellow-guests at the time. Mrs. Colborne, who 
was her son’s informant, begged him to say a few words 
to Frank. It was such a pity, the good lady observed, 
that the boy should get himself into trouble of that kind. 

“And, of course,” she added, “ he wouldn’t listen to 
me if I attempted to make him understand what a goose 
he is. He has a great admiration for you ; so perhaps he 
may believe you when you tell him that he might just as 
well think of marrying one of the Prince of Wales’s 
daughters as Lady Florence Carey. It isn’t as if he had 
the slightest prospect of any sort or kind.” 

Douglas was clever enough to divine that this last asser- 
tion was meant to be half-interrogative, but he did not 
think it worth while to make any response to it. Stoke 
Leighton did not imply opulence ; moreover, he himself 
was a young man in the best of health. Undoubtedly, 
Frank, whose chances of surviving him were scarcely 
appreciable, ought to be warned against cherishing insen- 
sate dreams. He therefore promised to do his duty to his 
young cousin, and he would have discharged this duty 
with less delay — perhaps, also, with more conviction — had 
he not chanced, on the following evening, to encounter 
Lady Winkfield at a dinner party. Lady Winkfield, who 
was back from the Riviera, had likewise a duty to perform 
and she found unalloyed pleasure in the performance of it, 
Her pleasure was not very skilfully disguised beneath the 
mask of a sorrowful countenance, but her statements 
sounded so extremely like facts that it was difficult to dis- 
miss them as mere ill-natured inventions. She was not 
an imaginative woman ; she could hardly have evolved 
from the depths of her inner consciousness the whole 
story of the Marchese di Leonforte’s accident, and of the 
sedulous care bestowed upon him by the Countess Radna. 
That she should place the worst possible construction up- 
on the subsequent intimacy between nurse and patient 
was, perhaps, no more than might have been expected ; 
but even if she had refrained from embellishing her narra- 
tive with details which she declared that it gave her great 


27 2 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


pain to mention, Douglas would have been able to fill 
them in for himself. He thanked Lady Winkfield for her 
interesting information ; he did his best to convey to her, 
in polite language, the impression that she had taken a 
liberty which he could not condescend to resent openly ; 
he failed as signally as his wife had done under similar 
circumstances, and he went home with an aching heart. 

Calumny would not be half so disastrous a crime as it 
is, nor would idle women be able to do a quarter of the 
mischief that they actually accomplish, if truth and false- 
hood were not so unfortunately and so inextricably entan- 
gled. What Douglas said to himself, and what he was 
quite reasonable in saying, wds that there was nothing on 
earth to prevent Helene from falling in love with an 
Italian march ese or with anybody else. By her way of 
thinking she was no longer his wife ; she had ceased to 
belong to him ; doubtless she would be both astonished 
and amused were she to learn that a flirtation or a love 
affair on her part still retained the power to inflict upon 
him a sense of outrage and disgrace. And what could he 
do ? Obviously nothing. It would be too ridiculous to 
scamper off to the South of France and pick a quarrel with 
a fantastic Sicilian for the purpose of running him through 
the body, or being run through the body by him. Scarce- 
ly less ridiculous, and even less dignified, would it be to 
undertake the same journey, regardless of political engage- 
ments, in order to make remonstrances which would 
either be listened to with laughter or not listened to at all. 
The only thing to be done was to make the best of political 
engagements and try not to care. But, for all his efforts, 
he did care ; and he conceived a bitter, silent resent- , 
ment against the woman who had wrecked his life which 
was, somehow, not incompatible with the love which he 
believed that he still felt^ for her. 

It was, perhaps, a result of the condition of mind thus 
dimly indicated that, when at length he did find an oppor- 
tunity of offering sage counsels to Frank, he laid less stress 
upon the material obstacles by which Lady Florence was 
protected against the advances of poverty-stricken wooers 
than upon the essential folly of staking your happiness 
upon the love of any woman, high or low, rich or poor. 
There were, he affirmed, so many other objects which a 
man might seek to attain without wasting his time, and 
without having cause to feel ashamed of himself, even ify 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


213 


in the long run, he should fall short of complete success. 
Love, after'all, was merely an .emotion, and a transitory 
one at the best. Could anything be more insane than to 
give up the best years of your life to winning the love of a 
woman who, even if she consented to become your wife, 
would in all probability weary of you as soon as, if not 
sooner than, you would weary of her ? 

“ Although/’ he concluded a long harangue by observ- 
ing, “ there isn’t the remotest chance of her ever consent- 
ing to become your wife. She will marry the cotton-spin- 
ner all right : they always do. ” 

“You wouldn’t utter such abominable blasphemies un- 
less you were dying to be contradicted, ” returned Frank, 
upon whom his cousin’s assumed cynicism produced an 
effect diametrically opposite to that which it was intended 
to produce. “ Don’t I know just as well as if you had 
told me so that you would cheerfully chuck up your 
chance of being made Chancellor of the Exchequer, or 
First Lord of the Treasury, or whatever it is that you are 
going to be, to have your wife back again ? And you 
may depend upon it that she will come back, if I have 
to travel third-class to Nice in order to bring her to her 
senses. In fact, I won’t deny that that is what I should 
have done before now if I didn’t believe that Miss Rowley 
understands her own sex better than I do. The Countess 
is no more weary of you than you are of her ; I’m quite 
sure of that. Leave her alone, and she’ll come home.” 

“ My dear boy,” said Douglas, “you don’t know what 
you are talking about. ” 

“Don’t I? W§11, anyhow, I know what I’m talking 
about when I say that I don’t mean to throw up the 
sponge before I’m beaten. ” 

Douglas shrugged his shoulders. “The worst of it is 
that you are absolutely certain to be beaten.” 

“So you say, and so most sensible people would say, 
I have no doubt. Nevertheless, she has refused Gal- 
ashiels, and I have a voice which will soon be worth 
money. Look here, Douglas ; I may be doomed to disap- 
pointment, but I do hope that my friends will let me go 
my own way towards disappointment without putting 
spokes in my wheels. You, at least, ought to sympathize 
with me, if nobody else does ; because you are making 
yourself quite as miserable about a woman as I am. ” 

“I don’t think I am particularly miserable,” answered 


214 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Douglas, “but if I were, my case would still be altogether 
unlike yours. However, since you have taken the bit be- 
tween your teeth, perhaps there is nothing better to be done 
with you than to let you have your head until you bang it 
against a stone wall. You might get over the wall and 
find yourself worse off on the other side — who knows ? ” 
Peggy Rowley, when a part of the above conversation 
was reported to her, gave it as her opinion that her inform- 
ant was not such a fool as he looked. “ Only/' she added, 
“you will be a great fool — a most unpardonable fool — if 
you tell that young man that you think of making him 
your heir-presumptive. The advent of an heir-apparent 
isn’t quite out of the question yet, you know. ’’ 

“ I haven’t told him, and I don’t mean to tell him,” an- 
swered Douglas. “All the same, if you knew as much as 
I know, you wouldn’t talk as though my wife and I could 
ever be reconciled.” - ✓ 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

HONOR AND GLORY. 

Peggy Rowley knew all that Douglas knew about the 
Countess Radna’s proceedings at Nice — for she also had 
enjoyed the privilege of a chat with Lady Winkfield — but 
the subject was not one upon which" she felt any inclina- 
tion to dwell, nor did she choose to respond to certain 
leading remarks which he made respecting it. If his wife’s 
flirtations alarmed him, by all means let him go and 
expostulate with her— that would be one means, though 
probably not the best that could be devised, towards bring- 
ing about the redmtegraiio amoris which both of them 
evidently desired — but Peggy did not happen to have 
conceived much respect or affection for the Countess, 
and was, consequently, not anxious to discuss her. It was 
far safer and far more interesting to discuss contemporary 
politics, in which field she now felt sure that Douglas was 
destined to play a prominent part. 

“ All you have to do is to go in and win,” she assured 
him ; “I’ve talked to the Ministers and their wives, and 
I know pretty well how you stand. They can’t do with- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2I 5 


out you, and you mustn’t make it too easy for them to do 
with you. It ought to be well driven into their heads that 
you aren’t an everyday man who can be bought at an 
everyday price. ” 

“ You are shockingly immoral/’ answered Douglas, 
laughing. “Even if my support were worth as much as 
you are kind enough to imply that it is, I shouldn’t wish 
to sell it, either at a high price or a low one. Besides, I 
really don't so very much care. I have my humble con- 
victions, and I endeavor to give utterance to them from 
time to time, that’s all.” 

“ Oh, you care, ” returned Peggy, composedly ; “every- 
body cares, and everybody is quite right. You aren’t 
being asked to sell yourself ; it is only being suggested to 
you that you shouldn’t ignore your own value at this game 
any more than you would at a game of cricket. As for 
your convictions — well, it is a piece of luck for you that 
they don’t always chance to accord with the convictions 
of the captain of the team. You’re entitled to make the 
most of that piece of luck.” 

He honestly thought that he was ; and, as his adviser 
had shrewdly divined, he was not quite so indifferent to 
political renown as he affected to be. What else, indeed, 
was there left for him to aspire to ? A man must needs set 
some object or other before himself in life, and although 
Frank Innes had not been wrong in averring that he would 
gladly sacrifice fame and fortune for the sake of winning 
back his wife’s love, it was hardly to be expected of him 
that he should incur the sacrifice without the slightest 
prospect of obtaining the reward. He, therefore, threw 
himself, heart and soul, into the Parliamentary struggle, 
getting a great deal of pleasure and excitement out of it and 
thoroughly enjoying the conversations with Peggy Rowley 
by which he was, every now and then, cheered on his way. 
He did not forget Helene ; still there were a considerable 
number of hours out of the twenty-four during which it 
was quite impossible for him to think about her. 

Now, there was one measure amongst those included 
in the Government programme announced at the begin- 
ning of the Session which Douglas had said all along that 
he was afraid he would have to oppose. It was a measure 
which, whether intrinsically good or bad, was sure to be 
eventually brought in and carried by one or other of the 
parties which control our national destinies in obedience 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 16 

to the see-saw of the national will ; but it could hardly 
be called a Tory measure; so that not a few of the old- 
fashioned Tories were apt to look sullen and mutinous 
when it was mentioned in their hearing. One knows the 
arguments by means of which these excellent and con- 
scientious men are customarily induced to do what they 
are wanted to do ; one understands the necessity of dis- 
cipline, the impossibility of stemming the flowing tide 
and the advantage of introducing in a modified shape a so- 
called reform which one's opponents, if they could get the 
chance, would doubtless render ten times more objection- 
able. Still it surely remains permissible for a young man 
who is neither old-fashioned nor bigoted to speak against 
a bill of which he honestly disapproves — always supposing 
that, by doing so, he can secure a reasonable probability 
of the abandonment of that Bill by its framers. It was 
because Douglas Colborne heartily disapproved of the Bill 
in question, and because he was well aware that many of 
those who sat on the same side of the House with him 
disapproved of it not less heartily that, when the time 
came for it to be brought forward, he delivered an oration 
much better, much more applauded and much more suc- 
cessful than that by which he had first made his mark 
in public life. His action, of course, laid him open to 
adverse criticism, of which he received a full measure in 
the sequel ; but the immediate results of his speech were 
that the Government narrowly escaped defeat, that the Bill 
was shelved for that Session, and that Peggy Rowley, who 
had been one of the interested spectators in the ladies' 
gallery, blew the loud trumpet of triumph. 

“You have done it this time, and no mistake!" she 
declared, when she met her county-member on the mor- 
row. “You were magnificent! — and you were in the 
right too. A detail ; still a satisfactory one, so far as it 
goes. Now the question is what is to be the next step ? " 

“ The next step, so far as I can see," answered Doug- 
las, “will be to eat humble pie. I have already had to 
explain that, though I am not repentant, I am sincerely 
sorry and that I won't do such things again if I can 
possibly help it. I have been given to understand that it 
was a rather shabby trick and that I wasn't returned to 
Parliament to upset the apple-cart." 

“Oh, rubbish I— they can't complain of you for being 
more consistent than they themselves are, Besides, you 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


217 


have only to refer them to your election speeches, which 
I confess I thought rather imprudent at the time, but which 
certainly didn't promise them unconditional obedience., 
As matters stand, it is they who will have to come to 
terms with you, not you with them. ” 

“ They have virtually done that, inasmuch as they don’t 
mean to proceed with their Bill. I demanded nothing 
more, and I have no notion of demanding anything more. 
But nobody — not even you — will believe that a politician 
may be an honest man. ’’ 

‘‘There is nothing dishonest in elbowing your way out 
of a crowd of mediocrities. Can you honestly say that- 
you would refuse office, if it were offered to you? If you 
can, you may as well apply for the Chiltern Hundreds 
forthwith and spend the best years of your life in some 
more useful and interesting fashion than following your 
leader. There are plenty of Browns, Joneses and Robin- 
sons who might easily replace you, if that is all the ad- 
vantage that you propose to take of your position.” 

“Well, you see, there is no office vacant just now, and 
if there were, I should undoubtedly bind myself to follow 
my leader by accepting it. I might accept or I might re- 
fuse — most likely I should refuse ; because what seems to 
me most interesting, and perhaps even most useful, in 
Parliamentary life is precisely the liberty which you are 
so anxious that I should resign. Moreover, I am not in 
the least ambitious : why should I be, now that I have 
nobody but myself to think about ? For reasons which 
you know of, I need an occupation. I don’t need honor 
and glory, and I shouldn’t know what to do with them 
when I got them.” 

“I could tell you what to do with them,” returned 
Peggy ; “only it would be a waste of breath ; for you are 
quite as well aware as I am that honor and glory never 
fail to produce a certain effect upon certain minds. Don’t 
cut off your nose to spite your face. That is an operation 
which it cannot be worth anybody’s while to perform 
— especially when a woman is concerned in the con- 
sequences of it.” 

“You are not too complimentary to your sex, ” remarked 
Douglas. “ Do you mean to say that you yourself would 
care any the more for a man because he was a Cabinet 
Minister, or any the less for him because he was a 
nobody ? ” 


2 l8 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


“I mean to say exactly what I said just now,” an- 
swered Peggy ; “ I mean to say that certain people admire 
success ; and why shouldn’t they, since success is really 
admirable ? Also I mean to say that I, personally, shall 
care a good deal less for you if you make a deliberate fool 
of yourself.” 

“ In that case,” Douglas declared, “ I will endeavor to 
avoid deliberate folly. I have lost enough already with- 
out losing my friends into the bargain. I wish you didn’t 
think, though, that all this temporary notoriety of mine 
was the result of calculation, or that I expected to gain 
anything by it. ” 

“You are about the least calculating person whom I 
have ever met in my life,” replied Peggy ; “but you can’t 
help gaining something by your notoriety, whether you 
wish for it or not — and I shouldn't wonder if you did wish 
for a little of it. However, I have nothing to do with 
your private affairs. With your public affairs I make so 
bold as to consider that I am more or less mixed up ; and 
that is why I should find it extremely difficult to forgive 
you for letting one of those chances slip which don’t 
usually come to any man a second time. ” 

If it be a gain to have your portrait published in illus- 
trated newspapers, to be talked about in all the clubs and 
to be eagerly sought after by fashionable hostesses, those 
advantages of notoriety were not denied to Douglas Col- 
borne. He was the celebrity of the hour ; and it is prob- 
ably not disagreeable, though it may not be absolutely 
intoxicating, to be a celebrity even for an hour. Society 
welcomed him none the less warmly because it was very 
generally suspected by this time that there had been a 
split between him and the' opulent Hungarian Countess 
who had herself been something of a celebrity a twelve- 
month before. Matrimonial splits will, as everybody 
knows, occur from time to time in the best-regulated 
families, and persons who claimed to possess the most 
authentic information declared that poor Mr. Colborne 
was not in the least to blame for the eccentricities of his 
wife. It was, perhaps, rather a pity that, when he went 
into the world, he should be so constantly seen at Peggy 
Rowley’s elbow ; but Peggy was too popular and ^too 
^powerful to be maligned with impunity, so that not many 
ill-natured remarks were made on that score. Douglas, 
therefore, never dined at home during this period of his 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


219 

career and not infrequently put in a late appearance at 
receptions and balls after the rising of the House. 

It was at one of these entertainments that he was 
greeted somewhat excitedly by Peggy Rowley with the 
exclamation : “ At last ! I was afraid you didn’t mean to 
turn up at all to-night Of course you have heard about 
poor old Palairet.” 

“ I have heard that he is very ill,” answered Douglas. 

“Oh, he is dying; there isn’t the shadow of a doubt 
about that. He may be dead at this moment. Well, one 
is sorry for his people, although he was close upon eighty, 
so that he can’t be said to have been cut off in his prime ; 
but one isn’t going to be such a humbug as to shed croco- 
dile’s tears over the fact that his death will leave an empty 
place in the Cabinet which somebody will have to fill.” 

“Do you really imagine,” asked Douglas, laughing, 
‘“that I shall be invited to succeed him as First Lord of 
the Admiralty ? I am very much flattered, if you do ; but 
I am afraid you are doomed to disappointment.” 

“ I imagine nothing so absurd,” answered Peggy, tartly ; 
“but I know that there must be a general shift of posts, 
and I think I may safely say I know that a post will 
be offered to you. I wish I knew that you would take 
it ! ” 

Douglas pondered silently for a few seconds. No over- 
tures had been made to him ; Sir William Palairet was 
not dead yet and might not die ; moreover, he was by no 
means sure that he could conscientiously surrender the 
right to speak and vote in accordance with his individual 
convictions which must inevitably be surrendered by 
acceptance of office. At last he said : 

“ What would be the use? When all’s said and done, 
it is much better fun to be a free lance.” 

“There is no use for free lances in this country,” 
returned Peggy, decisively. “To the best of my belief, 
there isn’t much use for them in any country. Whether 
you have intended it or whether you haven’t — and I am 
quite willing to believe that you haven’t — you have played 
your cards skilfully up to now. Don’t spoil the whole 
game by revoking at the last moment. You don't covet 
political renown? Well, we will grant, for the sake of 
argument, that you are sincere in that assertion, though I 
must be allowed a small mental reservation ; but there is 
something else which you do covet, and the very best 


220 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


way of obtaining it is to show in some open, palpable 
manner that you are not le premier venu. Honestly now 
7 — isn’t that the truth ? ” 

Possibly it was the truth ; possibly Helene’s quarrel with 
him was that he Was a mere mediocrity, and possibly 
there might be some satisfaction, albeit an ignoble one, in 
demonstrating to her that she had been a trifle over-hasty 
in setting him down as such ; but it was not thus that 
Douglas was minded to rekindle her love for him, nor, 
for some reason or other, was it at all agreeable to him 
that a suggestion of that kind should be made by Peggy 
Rowley. 

“You don’t seem to have a very exalted opinion of me, ” 
he remarked. “Humble as I am, I am not quite so 
humble as you make me out, and I don’t know that private 
liberty isn’t almost as valuable to me as public liberty. 
All things considered, I shall probably retain both — such 
as they are.” 

He went home in a rather bad humor, saying to him- 
self that nobody — not even Peggy Rowley — was capable 
of rising above the huckstering spirit of the age, and that, 
although nothing was more legitimate than for a wife to 
take pride in the achievements of her husband, nothing 
could well be more contemptible than for a deserted hus- 
band to hold out his achievements as a bait to entice back 
the wife who had deserted him chiefly because he had not 
hitherto gratified her ambition. If he was not to be loved 
for his own sake, he must get on as best he could with- 
out being loved at all. 

But this getting on as best he could meant having a 
definite object of some sort or kind ; and when the morn- 
ing papers brought him the intelligence of the Right 
Honorable Sir William Palairet’s lamented demise, he 
could not but feel that, however inadequate might be the 
motives assigned by Peggy Rowley for urging him to 
accept office, she had not been wrong in warning him 
against the folly of cutting off his nose to spite his face. 
There was not really any reason that he knew of why he 
should refuse to act with the existing Ministry ; while, if 
he did so, and if his refusal were made public, as it doubt- 
less would be, he would place himself in an irreconcilable 
position from which, probably, no future efforts would be 
made to withdraw him. Upon the whole, his inclinations 
at that early hour of the day when everybody is apt to 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


221 


feel sober and sensible were not adverse to having- great- 
ness thrust upon him. 

He glanced through the newspaper before attacking his 
daily budget of letters, and it was not until he had perused 
and tossed aside half a dozen unimportant epistles that he 
came to one which was addressed in a stiff, foreign hand- 
writing and which bore the Paris post-mark. Turning to 
the last page to see who his correspondent might be, he 
was not a little surprised to read the signature of “Elise 
von Bickenbach,” and with quickened interest he ran his 
eye over the preceding paragraphs. 

‘‘Dear Sir,” (the Baroness wrote) — “Pray excuse the 
liberty that I take in sending these few lines to you. I 
should not have presumed so far, were it not that the hap- 
piness of my beloved Countess Helene must ever be -the 
first consideration with me, and also that (unless I am 
greatly mistaken) your happiness, dear sir, is inseparable 
from hers. 

“ I despair of being able to explain to you in a language 
which is not my own” all the reasons which I have for 
hoping that your engagements may permit of your visiting 
Paris ere long ; I will only say that our dear Countess, who 
caught a severe cold when we were in Hungary last 
month, is not in as good health as we could wish her to 
be, that she has heard of your brilliant successes in the 
English Parliament, and that she has mentioned your 
name more than once of late in a tone which seemed to 
me to be sympathetic. 

“I do not know whether I ought to add, but I will take 
it upon myself to run the risk of adding, that a certain 
Marchese di Leonforte, an Italian gentleman of whom we 
saw a great deal during the winter at Nice, has appeared 
here and calls every day. He is not admitted every day 
— no, nor even every second day — still he calls ; and I 
think, dear sir, that if you were here, he would perhaps 
not call any more. That would be a relief to me ; for, 
although I have not a word to say against him, except 
that he is young and handsome and entirely devoted to 
our dear Countess, yet I would very much rather see you 
ringing our door-bell than him. ” 

The remainder of the poor, kindhearted, simple old 
creature’s effusion does not need to be quoted. Douglas 


222 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


perceived- — as in truth no full-grown mortal in possession 
of all his wits could have helped perceiving — what she was 
afraid of, and why she had taken the audacious step of 
calling her employers husband to the rescue. But, after 
full and calm consideration, he decided that it was in no 
sense his duty to respond to her appeal. To leave England 
at that particular juncture would be tantamount to making 
the revoke against which Peggy Rowley had so earnestly 
cautioned him ; and why should he thus play the traitor 
to himself? In order that his wife might be provided with 
a counter attraction and might be induced to forsake a 
new love for an old one ? But really that was a little too 
much to expect of him, and probably a great deal too 
much to expect of her. She must be perfectly well aware 
that he desired nothing better than to welcome her back, 
and let bygones be bygones : if she preferred this hand- 
some Italian to him, it was in the last degree unlikely that 
her preference would be lessened by his humiliating him- 
self so far as to enter into open rivalry with a man whom 
he ought not to acknowledge as his legitimate rival. No 
— she had claimed absolute freedom for herself, and she 
must exercise it, now that she possessed it : lie had not 
been exacting in the past, and he did not propose to be 
subservient in the future. 

He, therefore, despatched by return of post a somewhat 
dry reply to the Baroness von Bickenbach’s communica- 
tion, regretting that it was out of the question for him to 
leave London in the midst of the Parliamentary Session 
and expressing a hope that the Countess had recovered 
from her cold. He did not deign to mention the Marchese 
di Leonforte, but concluded by saying that, although he 
duly appreciated his correspondent’s solicitude for his 
happiness, he was unable to agree with her in thinking 
that he could promote it by knocking or ringing at a door 
which had already been shut in his face. His composi- 
tion, when he read it over, did not please him : it sounded 
pompous and huffy and even a trifle priggish. Still he did 
not see how he could amend it in any important particular ; 
so he stamped it and let it go. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


223 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE COUNTESSES EMISSARY. 

All physicians know that one of the most perplexing- 
problems which they are liable to be called upon to solve 
in the exercise of their beneficent art is that of how to deal 
with a patient who has no malady, but an abundance of 
complaints. Of late years the brutal method has been 
employed with some measure of success, and Dr. Schott, 
for his part, w^s inclined to think well of it. Situated as 
he was, however, he could hardly give it a fair chance in 
the Countess Radna’s case. He was, indeed, in the habit 
of adopting a scolding tone with her which she rather 
liked ; but she only submitted to be scolded because she 
rather liked it, and she was quite capable of dismissing her 
medical attendant at any moment, if, in his well-meant 
endeavors to bully her back into health, he should trans- 
gress the limits which she had mentally assigned to him. 
Now, Dr. Schott did not want to be dismissed. He had 
grown accustomed to the luxuries of a large household, for 
which he had found a modest flat in Vienna wholly inade- 
quate as a substitute ; he enjoyed good dinners and travel 
and change of scene ; and although he certainly did not 
enjoy the journey through Italy which succeeded the Count- 
ess Radna's departure from Nice, that was only because 
his patroness was so very cross and fractious the whole 
time. He had never known her so bad before, and he 
grumbled freely to Bickenbach every now and again. 

“It is enough to make a man despair of all remedies ! ” 
he declared. “That melodramatic Leonforte was an 
excellent tonic ; she dropped him precisely at the right 
moment ; she can pick up another when and where she 
pleases, and she has the satisfaction of knowing that Lady 
Winkfield will inform her husband how well she has 
diverted herself all through the winter. Yet she is be- 
coming thinner and her temper is becoming more sour 
every day. I myself,” added the Doctor, patting his 


224 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


waistcoat compassionately, “ am positively losing weight. 
It is not good to be so worried at my a ge. ” 

Worry is bad at any time of life ; and assuredly it was 
bad for the Countess, whose worries were quite as real as 
other people’s although she had been guilty of the gratui- 
tous folly of creating them for herself Neither Rome nor 
Florence nor Venice nor the representatives of society 
in those cities, who did their best to render her sojourn 
amongst them agreeable, availed to soothe her restless- 
ness or to put her in good humor with the world once 
more. She was dissatisfied with herself, which is an even 
worse thing than being dissatisfied with everybody else,- 
and it did not take" her many weeks to discover that Italy 
would not do at all. Hungary might possibly be better ; 
in Hungary she would at least have some duties to per- 
form, and might delude herself into the impression that she 
was of use by visiting the poor and relieving their eternal 
sordid necessities. 

So, as soon as ever there seemed to be a prospect of the 
sun having begun to shine again on the other side y>f the 
mountains she disregarded the warnings of Dr. Schott and 
removed herself to the great chilly castle which was nom- 
inally her home. She had never hitherto regarded it as a 
possible place of continuous residence ; but she now took 
it into her head that she would give it a serious trial. Im- 
mediately after her arrival she set to work, and for a few 
days rather enjoyed talking things over with her steward 
and issuing instructions to him. It presently appeared, 
however, that there was little scope for the beneficence 
which she desired to display. Although she had been such 
a constant absentee, her estates had been well managed, 
her liberality had been boundless, and her dependents 
were perfectly contented. Many of them were poor ; but 
they did not seem to mind being poor, while they evinced 
a very decided preference for ignorance and dirt, and grew 
half frightened, half defiant at the first suggestion of an y in- 
terference with their customary manner of life. The Count- 
ess was not the woman to undertake one of those long 
battles against prejudice which can only be won by pa- 
tience and good humor ; she had the instincts of a despot ; 
she was disposed to say that if people didn’t know what 
was best for them, they must be content to obey orders • 
and, with her arbitrary benevolence, she was on the high 
road towards making herself hated by her faithful and 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


225 


bewildered subjects when she justified Dr. Schott’s fore- 
bodings by catching a bad cold, which settled on her chest 
and kept her in bed for a fortnight. 

That was final. The dreadful tedium of those fourteen 
days, during which rain and snow fell almost incessantly, 
the dreary solitude of the huge, draughty building, the 
absence of incident and of all news of the outer world suf- 
ficed to convince the Countess of the absurdity of her ex- 
periment, and no sooner was she pronounced fit to travel 
than she declared her intention of proceeding to Paris. 
Such news from the outer world as is recorded in the daily 
papers had, of course, reached her ; and it may have been 
partly in consequence of a leading article in the Times that 
she was seized with d feverish longing to quit her seclu- 
sion. 

Such, at all events was the opinion of Bickenbach, to 
whom the Countess had a habit of imparting occasional 
half-confidences. Bickenbach, in the estimation of her 
employer, was a dear old soul, but so stupid that one might 
safely make use of her, from time to time, as a sort of safety- 
valve. She was about as serviceable in that capacity as 
a lap-dog, and many ladies who suffer from the necessity 
of repressing feelings which nature prompts them to 
put into words must be aware that a lap-dog is better than 
nothing. Members of the sterner sex cannot entertain 
any doubt as to the superiority of a dog (for the special 
purpose in question) to an old woman, because dogs have 
the inestimable advantage of being dumb. After what a 
sadly mistaken fashion the good Baroness saw fit to avail 
herself of her human faculties has been already related ; 
but in justice to her it must be added that she would have 
been less indiscreet, had she not become gravely alarmed 
by the appearance of the Marchese di Leonforte in Paris 
and by the circumstance that he was admitted once for 
twice that he was turned away. One maybe a stupid old 
woman, but one has sense enough to understand that 
alternate snubs and concessions cannot imply total indiffer- 
ence, whatever may be the motive by which they are 
prompted. 

Nevertheless, writing to Douglas Colborne was, no 
doubt, a clumsy measure to adopt ; and it was clumsier 
still to look so agitated and woebegone, on receiving his 
discouraging reply, as to attract the notice and the sharp 
queries of a lady who never allowed herself to be deceived 

r 5 


226 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


if she could help it. Poor Bickenbach offered a feeble show 
of resistance, which was speedily overcome, and when she 
had made a full confession of her sin, she was not spared 
the rebuke that she merited. 

“You have taken an unpardonable liberty,” she was 
told. “If anybody but you had dared to do such a thing 
there could have been no question of pardon ; and even 
you can only claim to be excused upon the plea of good 
intentions and hopeless imbecility. That you should have 
made me seem to invite him back ! — I, who would not 
for the world permit him to cross my threshold ! And he 
is far too dense and matter-of-fact to believe that you 
would venture to take a step of that kind without my 
connivance.” 

“But, dear Countess Helene,” protested the weeping 
Bickenbach, “ I told him that I was acting entirely upon 
my own responsibility.” 

“ Oh, idiot ! — as if it mattered what you told him ! ” 

“He is well-born and he is generous ; it is impossible 
that he should have misunderstood me. As impossible,” 
continued Bickenbach, drying her eyes and taking her 
courage in both hands, “ as it is for me to misunderstand 
the danger that you are in. Ah, dear Countess, you can- 
not deceive one who desires your happiness as ardently 
as I do ! I know where your heart is ; I know that you 
do not love this Italian ; but I know the terrible trouble 
that you may bring uppn yourself by your pride ; I know 
that he loves you, and — and I am afraid of him. That is 
why I wrote to Mr. Colborne.” 

The Countess, who had been pacing rapidly up and 
down the room, now paused in front of her companion, 
whom she surveyed with a whimsical expression of mingled 
anger, amusement, and curiosity. 

“ My good Bickenbach,” she exclaimed, “ you are worth 
ten times your salary ! You really do believe — oh, I can 
read as much in your candid countenance — that I am in 
danger of contracting a liaison with the Marchese di Leon- 
forte for the purpose of demonstrating to my husband that 
although he has forsaken me, there are still a few men left 
in the world who would not mind being selected to fill his 
place ! If I were to talk from now until this time to-mor- 
row, I could not hope to convey any appreciation to you 
of your own unconscious humor ; but I daresay you are 
equal to the comprehension of a plain statement of facts ; 


THE CO UNTESS RA DNA . 


227 


so I will assure you that my heart remains in its normal 
situation and that Mr. Colborne is no more in possession of 
it than my concierge . Meanwhile, I shall make so bold as 
to continue receiving such visitors as I may feel inclined 
to receive. Don't write any 1 more letters, though ; a bad 
joke isn’t improved by repetition.” 

With that the Countess left the room, holding her 
head very high. Her mortification was natural enough ; 
still she might very well have afforded to smile at over- 
tures which, however unauthorized and unwarrantable, 
were scarcely likely to have been misinterpreted. At the 
groundless apprehensions of Bickenbach she did contrive 
to smile ; but she was furious against her husband and 
longed to inflict some swift, sharp chastisement upon him. 
She did not ask herself for what offence he was to be 
punished — certainly not for having refused to come to 
Paris — her only feeling was that she had received a slap 
in the face, and that no one of her blood had ever sub- 
mitted tamely to insults. Nothing, of course, could have 
been more supremely illogical and inconsistent ; but we 
know what the immemorial rights of women are, and 
the Countess was not the more likely to forego hers be- 
cause she was emancipated enough to live apart from her 
husband and to make him (at least nominally) welcome 
to any satisfaction that he might get out of tying himself 
to Miss Rowley’s apron-string. 

When Leonforte called, that afternoon, and had the hap- 
piness of being received by a lady who more often than 
not declined to see him, he was at once struck by a cer- 
tain change in her aspect and manner. She had more 
color than usual ; her speech was less languid ; she seemed 
as if she had something to tell him, although for ten min- 
utes she would talk about nothing but commonplaces. 
Their conversations since he had rejoined her had always 
been commonplace ; nor had he ventured to remove them 
from that level. He had been very humble, very respect- 
ful, very much afraid of being sent about his business. 
He had felt that it was enough for him to be permitted to 
bask in the rare smiles vouchsafed to him ; he had been 
in constant terror of hearing that she was about to quit 
Paris, and had not dared to question her as to her plans, 
often though he had been tempted to do so. Now, how- 
ever, he fancied that she would not be greatly displeased 
if he were to put one question to her, so at length he took 
ppqrage and put it. 


228 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


“Will you not tell me what is the matter? ” he asked. 
“ I can see that you are unhappy to-day. ” 

She laughed. “Oh, unhappy is a big word. I am not 
unhappy ; but I am annoyed — which is almost as bad, 
perhaps. It is always annoying to be prevented from car- 
rying out one’s little intentions, and I foresee that I shall 
be prevented from running across to London for a few 
weeks this year, as I had rather thought of doing. Mr. 
Colborne is a trifle too conspicuous just at present ; I am 
afraid there would be hardly room for him and me in one 
metropolis.” 

“How conspicuous?” inquired the Italian, drawing his 
straight brows together. 

She shrugged her shoulders. “As far as my informa- 
tion goes, in every way,” she replied. “He is going to 
be a great statesman, because in England the highest 
honors are always conferred upon mediocrity ; and he 
seems to be making himself socially interesting by his 
attentions to that Miss Rowley whose name I think I 
mentioned to you at Nice — which is also a common 
method of acquiring distinction in England. You have 
no idea what a droll country England is.” 

“ I am sure it must be very droll and very interesting,” 
said the Marchese, rather grimly. He^added, after a mo- 
ment's pause : “I have been thinking of visiting it and 
making acquaintance with some of its peculiarities.” 

“Really? Well, if you go, you will not be disappoint- 
ed ; for it is quite unique. Shall I give you introductions 
to some of my friends in London ? I can't offer to intro- 
duce you to Mr. Colborne or to Miss Rowley, bien enten- 
du ; but I can promise you opportunities of meeting them 
and other people quite as charming as they are. By the 
way, supposing that you do undertake this trip, perhaps 
you would kindly go to my house, of which I will give 
you the address, and bring me back a few bibelots that I 
left there. I will make out a list of them, if it isn't troub- 
ling you too much. ” 

Leonforte replied gravely that he was as grateful for the 
honor of being entrusted with any commission by her as 
he would be for the promised introductions. He went on 
to say that it would not be his fault if he failed to encoun- 
ter Mr. Colborne in some public place. 

She understood what he meant ; she knew very well that 
his project Qf visiting England had only beep formed with- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


229 


in the last few minutes, and she was in no doubt as to his 
motives for crossing the Channel ; but, to make assurance 
doubly sure, she asked, with a smile : “And if you should 
have the felicity of encountering him ? ” 

The Marchese made no reply, but looked her straight in 
the face, set his teeth and, gripping his mustache with 
his left hand, gave it an abrupt upward twirl. The ges- 
ture was sufficiently expressive to satisfy her; but she 
took no notice of it, averted her eyes and yawned. 

“When do you start ? ” she asked, presently. 

“As soon as you please, madame.” 

“ I ? Oh, I having nothing to say to your movements ! 
but, if you wish to see London in the height of the season 
you had better not lose time. I will send the letters and 
the little list that I spoke of to your hotel this evening. I 
am desolated to dismiss you ; but I think I must go out 
for my drive now. You will be so amiable as to collect 
my small possessions, then, and deliver them to me when 
we meet again ? There is no hurry about it.” 

“Shall I find you here on my return ? ” asked the Mar- 
chese, anxiously. 

“If you don’t, you can leave the packet with the con- 
cierge. In all probability, however, I shall be here for 
another month, since London has been made impossible 
for me. Good-bye ; amuse yourselLwell ! ” 

That was all that passed between them ; and if she 
would have repudiated with scorn and laughter the accusa- 
tion that she had suborned an assassin, she was none the 
less aware that she had done something almost as mediae- 
val. Unquestionably this Sicilian admirer of hers would 
seize the first opportunity that offered of publicly insulting 
her husband ; but what then ? Englishmen do not fight 
duels, nor could anything come of the projected meeting 
except an ignoble fracas. That, however, was just what 
she wanted. Douglas might escape wounds ; but he 
would not be able to escape ridicule, he would not be able 
to escape the satirical comments which were sure to find 
their way into the newspapers, and he would probably 
be driven to recognize the expediency of dropping his 
intimacy with Miss Rowley. When one wishes to be 
avenged upon one’s adversary one should seek for his 
vulnerable point, and she felt certain that Douglas, like 
the rest of his cold-blooded race, would prefer almost 
any form of castigation to fhat of being laughed at. Sh§ 


23 ° 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


wanted, in short, to make him smart, and she thought 
than she had hit upon a tolerably efficacious method of 
accomplishing her purpose. 

She returned from her drive in such a much better humor 
that she had manifested of late that, in the course of the 
evening, the penitent Bickenbach felt encouraged to revert 
to a delicate subject and to express a timid hope that her 
interference had been forgiven. 

“You are absolutely forgiven, ” was the Countess's 
gratifying reply ; “ you are a great deal too entertaining 
to be quarrelled with. Added to which, your counsels 
are quite unexceptionably excellent, and I appreciate the 
full force of them. I can’t very well compel my husband 
to come to Paris against his will, can I ? But I have done 
the next best thing ; I have sent the dangerously fascinat- 
ing Marchese away.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

DIPLOMATIC NEGOTIATIONS. 

The more Douglas Colborne thought of it the more he 
felt convinced that he had acted quite rightly in replying 
as he had done to the Baroness von Bickenbach’s appeal. 
He could not possibly have gone to Paris ; nor could he 
have hoped to do the slightest good to himself or anybody 
else by taking such a step. Nevertheless, he had half 
expected to receive some further communication from the 
Baroness, and was more than half disappointed at her 
silence. Was he also to remain silent, and thus acquiesce 
tacitly in a state of things which, after all, seemed to touch 
his honor somewhat closely ? It is not impossible that he 
might have ended by putting his pride in his pocket and 
taking a return ticket for Paris, had he not been so busy, 
and had he not been perpetually reminded of what he 
owed to himself by the solicitations of his mother. Mrs. 
Colborne, who had written three times to the Countess 
without getting any answer from her correspondent, was 
becoming fidgety. She told Douglas that people were 
beginning to talk, that things really could not go on like 
thi? much longer, and that, in her opinion; it was high 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


231 


time for him to tender the olive-branch, since there seemed 
to be no immediate probability of its being tendered to 
him by his wife When he observed in reply that he 
believed his wife had quitted the regions in which the 
olive flourishes, she said rather tartly that the subject was 
not one to be treated flippantly. 

“ No one,” she declared, “ can be more averse to inter- 
ference than I am, and you cannot say that I have inter- 
fered with you hitherto ; but I should not be doing my duty 
as your mother if I did not warn you against supineness. 
A time always comes when some definite arrangement has 
to be made ; I hear remarks which you naturally don't 
hear, and it is very evident to me that if a reconciliation is 
to be effected at all, it ought to be effected at once. Two 
or three months hence you will find it ten times more diffi- 
cult to manage, you may be sure.” 

This, no doubt, was true ; but he did not anticipate a 
reconciliation, and he could not explain to his mother, 
with any hope of being understood, all the reasons that 
he had for disbelieving in his power to bring about such 
a happy event. All that Mrs. Colborne gained by her 
intervention was to confirm him in his resolution to sit 
still behind his entrenchments and to imbue him with a 
taste for lunching at his club. As for dinner, he always 
attended a dinner-party during that period when he did 
not dine at the House. 

Now, it came to pass that, as he was sitting down, one 
day, to his modest mutton-chop and pint of claret in the 
dining-room of the club to which he belonged, another 
member of that club stepped up and urbanely proposed to 
share his table with him. Lord Burcote was not often seen 
in the establishment alluded to and had probably never 
before in his life tested its culinary capabilities ; so Doug- 
las, who was aware of this, felt justified in assuming that 
the very smartly dressed old gentleman who took a chair 
and ordered ‘"whatever there is going ” must have some- 
thing rather particular to say to him. And it turned out, 
after a quarter of an hour had been spent in irrelevant 
amenities, that he was not mistaken. 

Lord Burcote had the name of being an able diplomatist 
and had done something to earn his reputation : it was, 
perhaps, even in some degree owing to his known will- 
ingness to undertake delicate jobs that he could always 
count upon obtaining some more or less ornamental post 


232 THE COUNTESS RADNA. 

when his party was in power. He was not much of a 
speaker and he was a great deal too lazy to be placed in 
charge of an important department ; but he was well 
• acquainted with the ins and outs of political life and he 
had frequently rendered good service in arranging combi- 
nations and composing differences. There was a preva- 
lent impression amongst certain influential personages 
that Mr. Douglas Colborne was a ticklish sort of customer 
to deal with ; and that was one reason— it was not the 
only reason, but influential personages knew nothing of 
any other — why the Right Honorable the Earl of Burcote 
was partaking of an indifferently cooked meal and was 
paying the prettiest compliments that he could think of to 
one whose recent conduct had evinced scant consideration 
for the convenience of the existing government. In this 
instance, however, he might have spared himself the 
trouble of stringing together flattering phrases which 
Douglas, who was no fool, accepted precisely for what 
they were worth. The latter, after the flattering phrases 
had slid by degrees into tentative suggestions, ended by 
laughing and saying : 

“ Hadn't we better speak more plainly, Lord Burcote? 
I’m quite ready to be open with you, if you will be open 
with me. Only first I should like to know whether you 
have been formally commissioned to sound me or not ” 
“Oh, my dear fellow, I needn't tell you that nobody is 
ever formally commissioned to do that kind of thing. I 
. can't say more than that poor Palairet’s death will entail 
certain promotions and vacancies, and that your name has 
been mentioned in connection with one of the vacancies.” 
“ With which of them ? ” Douglas inquired. 

“Not with one more than with another; we can’t tell 
as yet what they may be. ■ Only I think I may venture to 
assure you that you can have Qffice if you choose to take 
it ; and, as a friend, I should strongly advise you not to 
be too obstinate or too exacting. Come,” added Lord 
Burcote, with a good-humored laugh ; ‘ c you don’t quite 
expect Cabinet rank yet, I suppose ! ” 

“No; but I don’t want to be compelled to resign, and 
I don’t know howTar subordinate members of a Ministry 
are usually taken into the confidence of their chiefs.” 

Lord Burcote made a grimace and threw up his hands. 
“Oh,” said he, “you want to be Prime Minister, that’s 
quite clear ! I’m sure I hope you may be, one of these 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 33 


fine days ; but, my dear fellow, you never will be if you 
fancy that taking a seat on the top of a coach means 
grabbing hold of the reins. Oh, dear no ! People who 
behave in that way get chucked off, neck and crop, into 
the ditch — and serve 'em right ! For Heaven's sake, 
don’t give us all the affliction of seeing such a first-rate 
man as you are in that melancholy predicament ! ” 

Lord Burcote proceeded to draw forth from the treasure- 
house of his experience many worldly-wise sayings which 
were not inappropriate nor without effect upon the mind 
of his hearer. It was true enough that, as he said, being 
placed on the staff is not quite the same thing as directing 
operations : besides, he was able to give satisfactory 
assurances in reply to one or two queries which - Douglas 
felt it indispensable to put. He represented, moreover, 
that there was plenty of time for consideration, as several 
weeks must probably elapse before a formal proposition 
could be made ; and the upshot of a prolonged conversa- 
tion was that Douglas thought he might now face Peggy 
Rowley without fear of rebuke, while his lordship inwardly 
congratulated himself upon having discharged his mission 
with success. 

By this time the two high contracting parties had finished 
their luncheon and had adjourned to the smoking-room. 
It was merely as an apparent afterthought, before rising to 
depart, that Lord Burcote remarked carelessly : 

‘ ‘ By the way, what about that young cousin of yours ? 
— the fellow with the tenor voice, who is going to sing at 
the Duchess of Brentford's, you know. Is it true that you 
have adopted him — made him your heir, and all that? 
People are saying that you have done something of the 
kind. " 

“The people who are saying that must know a good 
deal more than I know," answered Douglas, looking his 
interlocutor full in the face. “It isn't very usual for a 
married man of my age to aejopt collaterals, is it? But 
perhaps the people of whom you speak don’t look upon me 
as being so very much a married man.” 

“ Oh, I know nothing at all about that," said Lord Bur- 
cote, jumping up and searching for his hat. “One has 
heard rumors — of course there are always bound to be ru- 
mors — but I’m delighted if there's no truth in them. And 
indeed the matter doesn’t concern me in any way, except 
jn s q far as that the young man is constantly coming to 


234 


THE COUNTESS RADNA , 


our house to rehearse with one of my daughters, who is to 
take part in the play, and naturally he meets other young 
women there. One feels a certain responsibility — at least, 
I daresay Lady Burcote xloes — and that was why I asked. 
I understand then, that the whole story is a canard A” 

“ All marriageable young women would do well to treat 
it as such,’’ replied Douglas, gravely. “You seem to be 
aware, and it isn’t worth while to deny, that I am not very 
likely, as matters stand at present, to have a son, and, if 
I never have a son, Frank Innes has as good a chance as 
anybody else of stepping into my shoes when I die ; but I 
am not many years older than he is, you see.” 

“Oh, nobody will begin to speculate upon your death 
until the next century is well on its way ; only, if you had 
really thought of adopting young Innes — not that it would 
have been at all a prudent thing to do — you would prob- 
ably have contemplated making some provision for him 
during your lifetime, that’s all.” 

“For the moment, I don’t contemplate any arrangement 
of the sort,” answered Douglas. And after the sprightly 
old nobleman had left him, he thought to himself : “That 
was a queer hint ! What can the girl have done that her 
people should dream of marrying her to a man who, even 
if I were to drop down dead to-morrowf would be a poor 
match for her? It isn’t for the sake of Frank’s beaux yeux 
or for the sake of any allowance that I should be able to 
afford him, that that old fox would accept him as a son-in- 
law. Anyhow, it would never have done for me to com- 
mit myself.” 

He was certainly right to abstain from committing him- 
self ; but his suspicions, as it happened, were unjust to 
Lord Burcote, who was a good-natured man and who saw 
things which his wife did not deign to see. Lord Burcote 
knew, or thought he knew, very well that his daughter 
would have sufficient strength of mind to resist the renewed 
advances of f^ord Galashiels, and he also knew, or thought 
he knew, upon whom her young affections had been 
bestowed. He was fond of the girl and would have been 
glad to do her a good turn, had such a thing been within 
the range of possibilities ; and, assuming that she wouldn’t 
take Galashiels, Frank Innes might, he had thought, be 
brought just within that range. A couple of thousand a 
year, duly secured, would have done it — not, indeed, with- 
out a ro\y ; still the thing could have been done at that 


- THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


235 


figure. As, however, Colborne had no generous intentions, 
there was nothing more to be said. It was a pity ; but it 
couldn’t be helped. Perhaps, after all, it wasn't such a 
great pity ; for love-matches are leaps in the dark, at best, 
and Florry, with her pretty face and her high connections, 
ought to end by securing a husband possessed of more 
solid and durable advantages than the heir-presumptive to 
Stoke Leighton could boast of. 

With such philosophical musings Lord Burcote beguiled 
the way as he walked "towards Eaton Square, and he 
had recovered all his accustomed cheerfulness by the time 
that he reached his own doorstep, whence a tall, swarthy 
man, who looked like a foreigner, had just been turned 
away. He glanced at the stranger, without addressing 
him, taking it for granted that he was some attache or other 
who had been dropping a card ; but the stranger paused, 
removed his hat, and said, in correct, laborious English : 

“ I have perhaps the honor to see Lord Burcote? Yes? 
I come from leaving with your servants my card — the 
Marchese di Leonforte — together with a letter of introduc- 
tion from the Countess Radna, who has been so amiable 
as to present me in that way to some of her English friends. ” 

“Delighted. I’m sure!” answered Lord Burcote, who 
did not, for the moment recall the lady’s name. Then, 
making a successful demand upon the memory of which, 
like most public personages, he was rather proud— “ Oh, 
the Countess Radna ; yes, yes, to be sure — Colborne’s 
wife ! Sorry we haven’t seen her in London this year, 
but only too happy to welcome any friend of hers. What 
can we do for you, I wonder ? Will you waive cere- 
mony and dine quietly with us this evening at half-past 
eight ? I can’t tell you whom you will meet ; but I know 
there are a few people coming. Just now one has so many 
engagements that one is obliged to catch one’s friends 
when one can, and I’m afraid you might call here a dozen 
times without finding my wife at home.” 

Lord Burcote was liked even by those who most strongly 
disapproved of him. He could scarcely be said to exem- 
plify the continental conception of a grand seigneur ; yet 
there was something about his easy, unaffected manner 
which was an evidence of good breeding, and was at once 
recognized as such by the Italian, whose own manner was 
so very unlike it. Leonforte smiled gravely, while ex- 
pressing his thanks for an invitation which he said that he 


236 • THE COUNTESS RADNA. 

had all the more pleasure in accepting because its inform- 
ality rendered it doubly kind and flattering. He thought, 
as he walked away that, if all Englishmen resembled his 
prospective host a short stay in London might not be alto- 
gether unpleasant — though indeed it was not in search of 
pleasure that his journey had been undertaken. 

He reappeared in Eaton Square precisely as the clock 
struck half-past eight, which seemed to him a very extraor- 
dinary hour at which to dine ; but it was only at a quarter 
to nine that Lady Burcote hurried into the drawing-room, 
fastening her bracelets and apologizing for having kept 
him waiting, nor was he permitted to satisfy the cravings 
of a healthy appetite until another quarter of an hour had 
elapsed. However, his dinner, when at length he ob- 
tained it was excellent ; and so, he thought, was the com- 
pany. He had never been able to feel at home in Nice or 
Paris ; but these people, although they differed in some 
respects even more strikingly than the French from his 
own nation, conveyed to him the impression that they 
neither regarded him nor wished to treat him as an alien. 
They made no effort to suit themselves to him, but evi- 
dently expected that he would endeavor to suit himself to 
them — which is perhaps the most friendly method of dis- 
playing hospitality. Most of them, so far as he could 
gather, were related to his host and hostess ; they were 
very merry and seemed to have a great deal to say to one 
another, as well as to him ; his imperfect acquaintance 
with the language prevented him from following the drift 
of more than a quarter of their observations ; but he liked 
very well to sit among them and watch them ; he paid the 
tribute of an unrestricted admiration to the women, all of 
whom were pretty and well-dressed, while the men, too, 
were not far from realizing his ideal of what men ought 
to be. 

One of the latter walked round the table and sat down 
beside him, after the ladies, in accordance with the ungal- 
lant British fashion, had withdrawn.- This was a young 
fellow, whose blue eyes, curly hair and open countenance 
did not fail to prepossess Leonforte, like the rest of the 
world, in his favor. He said, without any preliminary 
ceremonies : 

“You’re a friend of the Countess Radna’s, aren’t you? 
Do tell me all about her, and if you correspond with her, 
give her my love when you write. She was awfully kind 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


*37 


to me last year, and she won't have forgotten me. My 
name is Innes ; perhaps she may have mentioned me to 
you ? ” 

The Marchese replied with his customary gravity, 
though with a slight smile beneath his black mustache, 
that he had not the honor of being in correspondence 
with the Countess Radna, and that he did not remember 
to have heard her speak of Mr. Innes. 

“But," he added, “ I can well believe that she was kind 
to you, sir ; because she is kind to everybody. I myself 
owe my life, in all probability, to her kindness ; for I was 
very nearly killed by an accident at her door during the 
winter, and if she had not received me into her house and 
nursed me, I should not, perhaps, have been here at this 
moment." 

“Oh, I'm sure she would be only too glad to do anything 
that she could for you,” said Frank. “She's a cousin of 
mine, you know — or, at least, her husband is. And, 
between you and me, I think the only person to whom 
she hasn’t been over and above kind is that same husband 
of hers, who is one of the very best fellows in the world. 
Of course you know that she and he are not upon partic- 
ularly good terms at present.” 

The Marchese drew himself up and intimated rather 
stiffly that he was aware of the unhappy fa^t alluded to. 
He hoped he might be excused for doubting whether the 
breach had been caused* by any lack of kindness on the 
Countess's part, and, from what he had heard, he feared 
that it was irremediable. 

“ Not a bit of it ! ” returned Frank, cheerfully ; “ it's only 
a stupid misunderstanding. I'll tell you what I’ll do ; I’ll 
introduce you to Douglas Colborne, and you can have a 
talk with him. You must come to the Duchess of Brent- 
ford’s theatricals — there's no invitation required, because 
it’s a charity affair — and I know Douglas means to be 
present. He’s such a busy man nowadays that one hardly 
knows how or where to get hold of him ; but he has prom- 
ised to come and hear us squall, and, with a little tact 
and diplomacy, you know, you ought to be able to do 
both him and the Countess a service. You can buy your 
ticket from Lady Burcote.” 

Somebody drew Frank’s attention away at this moment ; 
so that a conversation was broken off which Leonforte 
would fain have continued a little longer ; but in the 


/ 


238 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


course of the evening th£ latter acted upon the suggestion 
made to him and purchased a ticket for the Duchess’s 
theatricals from his hostess. He certainly wanted to meet 
Mr. Colborne ; but he was not equally certain as to what 
he intended to do when the meeting should take place. 
He hardly knew what to make of these English people. 
He liked them ; but they puzzled him with their good 
humor, their levity and their insouciance. Lady Burcote 
said a few words to him about the Gountess, regretting 
her disappearance from London society and hoping that 
she did not propose to exile herself permanently, but did 
not seem to see anything worthy of remark in the Count- 
esses separation from her husband. She had nothing but 
praises to bestow upon Mr. Colborne, who, she said, was 
already famous and was going to be more so — thanks, 
chiefly, to the exertions of Miss Rowley. 

“Peggy Rowley, ” she explained, “is a power in the 
land. I can’t exactly tell you why, because you are a 
foreigner and you wouldn’t understand ; but so it is, and, 
luckily for Mr. Colborne, she is a warm partisan of his. 
Oh, no; nothing of that kind,” added Lady Burcote, in 
response to a mute interrogation which the Marchese’s 
Italian caution would not suffer him to express verbally ; 
“Peggy doesn’t go in for those little games. She might 
have married,, a hundred times over ; but I suppose she 
prefers her liberty, and, for some reason or other, politics 
amuse her. She would be the last woman in the world to 
get herself into trouble with a married man.” 

All this was rather bewildering to a hot-blooded, self- 
restrained Sicilian, who had expected to find that what 
was so important to him would have some importance in 
the eyes of others, and who was reluctantly compelled to 
admit the conjecture that the infamous Colborne might 
not, after all, be quite as infamous as he has been painted. 
However, he resolved to postpone any decision as to 
ultimate tactics until he should have met his enemy face 
to face — which, under the circumstances, was doubtless 
the most sensible resolution thafihe could have made. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 39 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

AT BRENTFORD HOUSE. 

Frank Innes forgot all about the Marchese di Leonforte as 
soon as he lost sight of that gentleman. Indeed, it says 
something for the young fellow’s kindness of heart that he 
should have been able at this time to bestow even a pass- 
ing thought upon his cousin’s affairs, considering the very 
important crisis which he felt that his own were about to 
reach. Lady Burcote’s contemptuous disregard of such 
small fry as Government clerks had rendered it possible 
for him to arrive at a greater degree of intimacy with her 
daughter than would have been permitted, had he been a 
sprig of nobility, possessed of a limited income. He had 
been made free of the house in Eaton Square and had 
availed himself of his privileges to such good purpose that 
Lady Florence could not, he was sure, be in any doubt 
now as to the sentiments with which she had inspired him. 
Whether those sentiments were reciprocated or not was, 
however, quite another question. So far, the girl had 
certainly given him no excuse for flattering himself that 
they were ; although she had been very candid and’con- 
fidential with him, telling him, in the course of their 
frequent conversations, how heavily her mother’s tyranny 
weighed upon her, and drawing no veil over the strong 
personal repugnance that she felt for Lord Galashiels, who, 
she feared, was not disposed to take no for an answer. 

Lord Galashiels — instigated, it may be, by hints pro- 
ceeding from an influential quarter — had resumed his 
visits to Eaton Square and availed himself of Lord Bur- 
cote’s proffered hospitality almost as often as his humble 
competitor did. He could hardly be said to have renewed 
his attentions to Lady Florence ; but that was only be- 
cause he deemed it good policy, for the time being, to 
be distant and sulky in his demeanor towards her. He 
thought she ought to be made to understand that playing 
fast and loose with a man of, his wealth and position was 
a dangerous form of relaxation, and that she must take 


24 ° 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


the trouble to beckon him back if she wished him to over- 
look the past and assume the attitude of a suppliant once 
more. He was not in the least afraid of Frank Innes, in 
whom his exhaustive knowledge of feminine nature had 
enabled him to discern a mere decoy duck, nor did he 
deign to distress himself about a flirtation which, as we 
have seen, had caused some passing anxiety and regret to 
Lord Burcote. 

On the other hand, Frank Innes was a good deal afraid of 
him, and had, in truth, plausible reasons for being so. 
Everybody said that Lady Florence was destined event- 
ually to become Lady Galashiels ; Peggy Rowley assured 
him again and again that the betrothal was as certain to 
come about as the sun was to go on rising and setting 
until the end of time ; Lady Florence herself did not appear 
to think that there was much use in struggling against the 
inevitable, notwithstanding the detestation that she pro- 
fessed for her rejected suitor. Meanwhile, the period 
during which it might be held permissible for him to 
demand daily interviews with her was drawing rapidly 
towards its close ; when once the Duchess of Brentford's 
entertainment should have passed into the category of 
bygones he himself would probably share the same 
deplorable fate ; in short, he must make his attempt without 
loss of time, or else practically abandon the hope of ever 
being able to make it at all. 

Well, it was but a forlorn hope that he entertained ; still 
it was considerably less forlorn than it had been earlier in 
the year. He had no right to imagine that Lady Florence 
loved him ; but she had given him every right to believe 
that she liked him very much ; and, as far as the earning 
of money was concerned, his prospects were fairly bright. 
He knew now, upon the best authority, that his voice 
was one of a rare quality and that he had a career before 
him if he chose to pursue it. It would, of course, be vain 
to look for anything but strenuous opposition from Lord 
and Lady Burcote ; but he did not think it likely that 
aristocratic prejudice would deter Lady Florence from 
accepting a man for whom she cared, merely because he 
derived his income from singing in public. And, suppos- 
ing that she had courage enough to defy her parents, why 
shouldn’t her parents be successfully defied ? 

The upshot of these self-communings was that, on the 
appointed evening, Frank betook himself, in a frame of 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


241 


mind at once resolute and excited, to Brentford House, 
where the first person whom he recognized amongst the 
assembled audience was his cousin Douglas, while the 
second was the Marchese di Leonforte. That reminded 
him of his promise to make the two men known to one 
another, and, as the proceedings were to open with a short 
piece during which his presence behind the scenes was not 
required, he thought he could not do better than perform 
the ceremony of introduction at once. He, therefore, 
greeted Leonforte and, without entering into any explana- 
tion, drew him forward by the arm to the row of chairs 
upon one of which Douglas was seated. 

“How are you, Douglas?” said he. “Let me intro- 
duce the Marchese di Leonforte, who has just arrived 
from Paris and wants to make your acquaintance. He is 
a friend of the Countess’s.” 

With the complacent conviction that he had thus ac- 
quitted himself as neatly as possible of a delicate task, 
Frank retired, leaving two sorely embarrassed gentlemen 
behind him. Douglas was naturally somewhat more 
taken aback than the Italian, having had no previous 
warning of the pleasure in store for him ; but he had 
presence of mind enough to bow and make the customary 
polite mutter. That was, in fact, the only course open 
to him at such a time and place ; though the rapid sur- 
vey which he took of his reputed supplanter (who struck 
him as abominably handsome and romantic-looking), 
caused him for one moment to wish that their meeting 
could have occurred elsewhere and under less sophisti- 
cated conditions. Leonforte, for his part, was both agree- 
ably and disagreeably impressed by the aspect of the per- 
sonage whom - he had so often anathematized. He had 
expected to encounter a cynical, middle-aged individual 
with a bald head, cold blue eyes and a sneering manner : 
what he actually beheld was a pleasant, honest-looking 
young man, who had colored slightly and who did not 
seem to be altogether free from the shyness of boyhood. 
It was a little awkward and bewildering to be confronted 
at last with the enemy in so unforeseen a shape, and the 
Marchese cduld think of nothing better to say to him than : 

“I must apologize to you, sir; the kindness of Mr. 
Innes has led him to make a statement which is inexact. 
I beg you to believe that I did not request this honor.” 

Douglas smiled and answered that there was no need 


242 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


for apologies. He did not quite understand what the 
other meant by assuming an air of such portentous solem- 
nity ; but he was determined to ignore any cause for 
mutual dislike that might exist between them ; so he 
added : “I think Frank said you were a friend of my 
wife’s ? ” 

“I have the privilege to be numbered amongst the 
Countess Radnas friends,” replied the Marchese very 
stiffly — for, somehow or other, he felt it to bean intolerable 
piece of impudence on the Englishman’s part to speak of 
the Countess in that familiar way. “It is even because 
I am so far privileged that I could not truly have described 
myself as anxious to make your acquaintance, Mr. Col- 
borne. Excuse the freedom of my confession.” 

Now, really such freedom of speech was quite inexcus- 
able, and it was impossible to suppose that a total stranger 
who permitted himself to use it could have intended it to 
be anything else. Douglas was forced to the conclusion 
that the man wished to pick a quarrel with him : all he 
could do was to imply by his response that the occasion 
was ill-chosen, but that he would be as ready as any- 
body else to resent an affront, should some more fitting 
opportunity be accorded to him for doing so. He there- 
fore said : 

“Perhaps I have mistaken your meaning; but you will 
admit, in any case, that I, on my side, have not sought 
your acquaintance. I am afraid all these seats are already 
engaged ; but if it should suit your convenience to call 
upon me at any time, this is my address.” 

Thereupon he handed his card to the Marchese, who 
took it, with a low bow, and fell back. He was quite 
unaware that he had, according to the Continental code 
of manners, taken the first step towards the arrangement 
of a hostile meeting ; and, as the curtain rose at this 
moment, he endeavored to concentrate his attention upon 
the stage and forget an episode which had very nearly 
made him lose his temper. 

The amateur performers whose modest mission it was 
to keep the early arrivals amused would probably have 
fallen a little short of success, so far as Mr. Colborne was 
concerned, had he been left to their uncovenanted mercies ; 
but they had not stumbled through many speeches of their 
opening dialogue when a rntore effectual diversion was 
created for him by the advent of two ladies who, it 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 43 

appeared, had secured the neighboring chairs. Miss 
Spofforth, as a matter of course," took the more remote 
one, while Peggy Rowley, placing herself at his elbow, 
remarked : 

“ Well, this is luck ! I hardly expected to see you here, 
and I certainly didn’t expect to have you as a neighbor. 
I’ve been dying to congratulate you ever since I heard 
that it was all right and that you won’t refuse to be made 
a Privy Councillor.” 

“ One can’t refuse what hasn’t been offered yet,” 
returned Douglas, laughing. 

“Oh, dear, yes, one can ; and you are just the sort of 
cantankerous being to do it. I don’t mind telling you now 
that I have had some horrible misgivings ; thank good- 
ness, they were uncalled for ! The importance of the office 
isn’t the question, you know ; an Under-Secretaryship will 
answer all your purpose, and it will be nobody’s fault but 
your own if you are not in the next Cabinet.” 

“ In the next ? ” 

“Or in the one after. If the next Ministry is to be a 
Radical one — which is by no means proved — it won't be 
in power for six months. Then will come the usual 
necessity for the infusion of new blood, and you will step 
into your proper position. Don’t try to look as if you 
didn’t care : nothing infuriates me so much as affectation. ” 

He did, of course, care, and he had no desire to appear 
affected ; although there were other things which were of 
greater consequence to him than political achievements. 
However, he could not speak of these other things to 
Peggy Rowley, who was scarcely as sympathetic with 
regard to them as she might have been ; so he lent a not 
unwilling ear to her flattering prognostications and admired 
as he had done a hundred times before, the shrewdness 
which enabled her to discern the true situation of public 
affairs. What she could not discern (because nobody 
can) was the verdict likely to be returned at the next 
general election by the silent masses who are our rulers ; 
but she had theories upon the subject, as everybody has, 
and it was both interesting and amusing to hear her 
state them. If she did not contrive to persuade him that 
the vast majority of Englishmen are Conservatives at heart 
and would end by following his lead she enabled him at 
all events to forget the vexatious behavior of a certain 
foreigner, while neither he nor she were disturbed for a 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


244 

moment by the progress of the little drama which was 
being enacted for their benefit. 

Leonforte, sitting a few yards behind the pair, watched 
them with curiosity and was as oblivious as they were of 
the circumstance that an exceedingly funny exhibition of 
the histrionic art was taking place upon the stage. What 
in the world was he to do with this apparently straight- 
forward and unimpassioned Briton ? At the bottom of 
his heart he wanted to think badly of the man, and he 
was provoked at being furnished with no plausible excuse 
for thinking badly of him. Fauie de mieux , the most had 
to be made of the absorbing interest which Mr. Colborne 
evidently took in his colloquy with Miss Rowley, and, as 
Leonforte had a Southerner’s aptitude for seeing what he 
wished to see, he soon contrived to work himself up into 
a state of righteous wrath over a non-existent flirtation. 
That Mr. Colborne should pay attention thus publicly 
and undisguisedly to another woman was a direct insult 
to the Countess Radna ; and for what purpose was the 
Marchese in England if not for the purpose of avenging 
insults offered to the absent and innocent lady ? He 
thought of this, and of how perfectly easy it would be, in 
any other country but England, to provoke a duel with 
the materials which were at his disposal ; but he like- 
wise reflected that, after he should have fought with 
his antagonist and wounded him (for it would, of course, 
be a very great mistake to kill him), he would not have 
advanced much farther towards the attainment of the 
object which he had in view. It would be pleasant to 
pose as the Countess’s champion, and it would be pleasant 
to inflict condign punishment upon the offender ; but, 
unfortunately, no punishment, however severe, could 
avail to sever the bonds which united her to her lawful * 
husband. A wiser plan, no doubt, would be to forego the 
satisfaction of personal revenge and, by means of dip- 
lomacy to bring her erring husband to terms. 

While the Sicilian was taking counsel with himself after 
this astute but slightly antiquated fashion, the first piece 
had come to an end, the room had become full to overflow- 
ing, and the operetta which was destined to bring far-reach- 
ingrenown to Frank Innes had begun. The truth was that 
Frank knew very well how important it was that he should 
achieve an indubitable success that evening, and had re- 
solved to achieve it. The occasion was not a private one ; 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


245 


representatives of the press, musical critics and professional 
singers were present; some of them would say, while others 
would print, what their impressions of him were ; and, 
should the general verdict be favorable, his future would 
be no longer a question of possibility, but of certainty. 
Happily for him, he was free from that absurd affliction 
of nervousness which handicaps most of us in these over- 
civilized days ; and so it came to pass that long before the 
curtain fell, the fact had been established that there existed 
in London a young man whose vocal powers and techni- 
cal education rendered him worth his full weight in gold. 
He so completely outshone his fellow-actors and actresses 
that these scarcely obtained the recognition due to their 
merits; although Lady Florence, who had sung very nicely 
indeed, was called before the curtain and presented with 
bouquets. Not only was Frank the hero of the evening, 
but he was assured, immediately upon the conclusion of 
the performance, that he might, if he pleased, be the hero 
of the next and of many subsequent seasons. Definite pro- 
posals were made to him and definite undertakings urged 
upon him — for indeed there are very few tenors in the 
world. 

The young man did not lose his head in the intoxication 
of a triumph which he had partially foreseen ; he refused 
to bind himself by any rash promises upon the spur of the 
moment ; he did not even determine finally — although he 
had almost determined — to resign his paltry Government 
clerkship and make his fortune by a quicker and more fas- 
cinating method. There are fortunes other than pecuniary 
to be made or marred by hasty action, and it was ob- 
viously essential that he should ascertain first of all what 
were Lady Florence’s views upon the whole subject. 

He found her, after he had at length shaken off his as- 
siduous admirers and tempters, talking to Lord Galashiels, 
who, instead of departing with the rest of the audience, 
had come behind the scenes in order to assure her in person 
of the complete satisfaction with which he had listened to 
her. 

“ Innes was not bad — not at all bad,” Frank heard him 
saying ; “ but, after all, one can’t help looking upon male 
songsters as rather muffs. Besides, at the best of times, 
a man’s voice isn’t at all the same thing as a woman’s 
voice — is it now ? ” 

“ Has anybody ever asserted that it was? ” Lady Flor- 


2 46 the countess radna. 

ence inquired. “ It may be a much better thing, though ; 
and, as a matter of fact, Mr. Innes can beat me at singing 
with almost as much ridiculous ease as he can beat you 
at running. ” 

Lord Galashiels was precluded from making any re- 
joinder to this uncivil speech ; for, before he could think 
of an appropriate one, Lady Florence had caught sight of 
Frank Innes and had hastily quitted his side. She beck- 
oned the young man into the slips, where they were at 
least temporarily secure from interruption ; she was some- 
what flushed and excited, as was but natural, considering 
all things, and she was probably aware that only a few 
minutes would be granted to her in which to convey her 
congratulations to her late coadjutor. 

“ I'm glad everything has gone off so splendidly/’ she 
concluded by saying, “ and I hope you are pleased with 
us all for having done our little best ; still I’m rather 
sorry that we have got to the end and the finish of the 
whole business. One won’t see you any tnore now, I 
suppose ? ” 

“ You’ll see j list as much of me as you want to see,” 
was Frank’s emphatic reply. “ The only question is 
whether you won’t, perhaps, see a little more.” 

“ Oh, I don’t think there’s much fear of that. You will 
call and we shall be out ; possibly — though I have my 
doubts about it — you will be asked to dinner once ; then, 
towards the end of July, you will call again and we shall 
be out again — and that will be all.” 

“ Mayn’t I call when there is some reasonable prospect 
of your being at home ? ” asked Frank. 

“ Of course you may ; only I hardly know when that 
will be ; we have such a heap of engagements. To-mor- 
row afternoon I believe we shall be at home until about 
six o’clock, when mamma has to go and present prizes to 
some volunteer corps or other.” 

“ And do you go with her ? ” 

“Yes, unless 1 have a headache — as I most likely shall, 
after my exertions this evening. Now I must rush off 
and change my clothes. If you see Lord Galashiels, 
please tell him that I have left : it would be just like him 
to wait for me.” 

If this was not plain and direct encouragement, nothing 
that a young woman can permissibly say to a potential 
wooer ought to be so regarded. Frank Innes was not 


THE COUNTESS RADA A. 


247 


more conceited than his neighbors ; but he ventured to 
interpret Lady Florence’s words in that sense, and it will 
surely be conceded that he had a fair right to build certain 
ambitious castles in the air as. he drove away towards his 
club, after receiving the Duchess of Brentford’s thanks 
and the cordial felicitations of Lady Burcote. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

FRANK TAKES DECISIVE STEPS. 

Mrs. Colborne was both a good and a sensible woman ; 
neither of which things prevented her from being, at times, 
an extremely irritating one. She had not the slightest idea 
that she was ever irritating ; but she knew that bachelors, 
as w.ell as men who by the force of unfortunate circum- 
stances are compelled temporarily to lead the lives of 
bachelors, are apt to find the hospitality of their female 
relatives a restraint upon them ; so she raised no objections 
in answer to a timid suggestion on her son’s part that it 
would, perhaps, be rather more convenient for everybody 
if he were to domicile himself elsewhere than in Elvaston 
Place during the remainder of the Session. He had med- 
itated this step for a long time, but had hesitated to carry it 
into execution ; because, for one thing, the share which he 
had taken in defraying the household expenses had naturally 
been a help to his mother, who was not too well off, and, 
for another, he had been afraid that her feelings would be 
hurt by his departure. However, to his great relief, she 
reassured him upon the latter point, while consenting 
cheerfully and gratefully to certain fiifancial arrangements 
which he had thought it right to make. 

“ My dear boy,” she said, “I quite understand that it 
is impossible for you to keep regular hours just now, and 
a bore for you to feel that in a small household like mine 
regular hours must be kept. I only hope that before long 
you may have a big household of your own once more, 
and in the meantime I am sure Eliza Watts will do all she 
can to make you comfortable.’' 

This was handsome behavior, and Douglas acknowl- 


248 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


edged it to be such ; although, in truth, it had not been 
any necessity for keeping regular hours that had rendered 
his mothers house an irksome place of residence to him. 
Whatever might be the cause assigned for his change of 
quarters, he was glad enough to be, able to effect it with 
so little trouble, and he accordingly shifted himself and his 
belongings to the lodgings in Clarges Street which were 
kept by Mrs. Watts, who had been head-housemaid at 
Stoke Leighton until she had espoused the butler and 
retired into private life. 

On the morning after the Duchess of Brentford’s chari- 
table entertainment he was dawdling over a late breakfast 
and mentally recapitulating some ofvthe incidents of the 
previous evening, when Frank Innes was announced. 
His visitor, as he immediately noticed, wore the aspect 
of one who has a purpose before him and likewise of one 
who is doubtful whether his purpose will meet with 
sympathy or approval. Therefore, after pointing to an 
arm-chair and pushing the cigarettes across the table, he 
asked : 

“Have you come to beg for applause? Well, I do 
applaud you, and I applauded you last night with all my 
hands and feet. It was a legitimate triumph — only, if 
you’ll forgive my saying so, you must beware of imagin- 
ing that triumphs of that sort mean more than they really 
do mean.” 

“Oh, they may mean a lot,” Frank declared, seating 
himself and lighting a cigarette ; “ it just depends upon cir- 
cumstances. What that little success has meant for me 
is that it has brought me offers which I think I should be 
an ass to refuse. A good many people were waiting to 
see how I should pull through ; and now they’re satisfied, 
it seems. The long and the short of it is, that if I go in for 
the stage, I shall be pretty sure of making a modest for- 
tune, whereas by sticking to the Office I can’t hope ever 
to make more than bread and butter, and not too much 
of that. So I’ve made up my mind to chuck the Office. 

I thought I ought to tell you ; though I’m afraid you 
won’t approve. All the same, you know the stage is 
quite the right thing nowadays; the old-fashioned preju- 
dices about it are completely out of date.” 

That was possibly true ; and yet one might be old- 
fashioned enough to cling to them. Douglas could not 
relish the idea of seeing his cousin’s name printed in 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


249 

enormous letters and carried through the streets by a 
sandwich-man ; he could not feel that a gentleman has 
any business to appeal to the public in that particular 
way, nor was he at all convinced of the wisdom of throw- 
ing up a small certainty for the sake of a problematical 
fortune. After a long pause, he said : 

“To tell you the truth, I don’t approve ; I can’t see 
much difference between a professional singer and a pro- 
fessional rider or cricketer. Still you are your own master, 
and you aren’t in any way bound to consult me. Your 
father won’t be best pleased though, will he ? ” 

“ Pleased ! Why, he’ll be simply foaming at the mouth 
— fit to be tied ! He would cut me off with a shilling if 
he had a spare shilling to cut me off with ; only he hasn’t, 
you see. In process of time he will most likely become 
reconciled to what can’t be helped ; and if he doesn’t— 
well, I must try to get on without him. He has allowed 
me to get on as best I could without him for some time 
past, and I really don’t think that duty compels me to 
impoverish myself out of deference to his strait-laced 
notions. It is different with you ; because I couldn’t have 
got on at all unless you had assisted me, Douglas ; and 
I’m not ungrateful, though I haven’t said much about it. ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, you mustn’t think that you are under the small- 
est obligation to me,” returned. the other, reddening a 
little : “I inherited sundry charges which I couldn’t pos- 
sibly have disregarded with common honesty. And, talk- 
ing about inheritances,” he added presently, “I may as 
well tell you now what I have thought of telling you 
several times before — that Stoke Leighton will probably 
come to you or to your eldest son when I die. You may 
say that that makes no practical change in the situation ; 
and perhaps it doesn’t, considering my age and the strength 
of my constitution. Still it is customary for a man to 
make some preliminary provision for his heir, and, as 
matters stand, nobody could call it very imprudent on 
my part to promise you a somewhat increased income. 
I can't specify the exact amount at this moment ; I should 
think that in a few years’ time it might be considerably 

larger than I could afford to make it now ; but ” 

“My dear old man,” interrupted Frank, “don't talk 
such outrageous nonsense ! It’s awfully good of you ; 
but at the same time you are talking utter nonsense, and 
I don’t want to hear any more of it. A few months hence 


2 5 ° 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


your wife will be back in England, and long before you 
die you will have sons as big as yourself to pay for and 
keep in order. Did you have a talk with that Italian chap 
last night ? I hoped you would.” 

“ I had a short talk with him, ” answered Douglas, smil- 
ing. “As far as I could judge from the very few obser- 
vations with which he thought fit to honor me, he has 
not come to London precisely as an ambassador of peace. 
Not that he, or any ideas that he may have formed about 
me, signify in the slightest degree: I am to -all intents 
and purposes a divorced man, minus the power to marry 
again ; and, as such, I have a right to choose my succes- 
sor. I don’t claim a right to dictate to him what his career 
should be ; but perhaps I may make so bold as to indi- 
cate my preferences.” 

Frank absolutely refused to accept this as an accurate 
or reasonable description of the state of affairs, and a dis- 
cussion ensued which proved as barren of results as ninety- 
nine discussions out of every hundred do. Douglas did 
not care to refer to the letter which he had received from 
Bickenbach, while his cousin, who knew nothing more of 
Leonforte than that he was a friend of the Countess’s, could 
give no plausible reasons for imagining that that lady had 
despatched her friend to London in the character of a go- 
between. The upshot of it all was that the younger man 
gained what he had originally called in Clarges Street 
with the hope of gaining, inasmuch as Douglas acknowl- 
edged that he was entitled to dispose of his future life as 
might seem best to him. 

“ I mustn’t assert privileges which you refuse to grant 
me, ” the latter ended by saying, “and, since you won’t 
hear of being treated as my heir, it isn’t for me to object 
to your strutting about upon the operatic stage. Only I 
do hope and trust that you are not deluding yourself into 
the belief that Lord and Lady Burcote won’t object to it 
— and to you.” 

Frank stroked his chin and said : “ You think they will 
object, eh ? ” 

“My poor boy, what a question ! I am not sure ; but 
I should imagine that they would object even if you were 
-ms there a millionaire tenor in existence ? — well, let us 
say, even if you were a male Patti. However, as you 
are nothing of the sort and can’t, under the most favor- 
able circumstances, become anything of the sort for a 

t6 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


great many years to come, the hypothesis isn't worth 
considering. Moreover, as a matter of detail, you would 
have to get Lady Florence’s consent, which you haven’t 
got yet, 1 presume.” 

“ Not yet.” 

“Then, for goodness’ sake, go and ask for it ; I couldn’t 
give you sounder advice. If that young lady’s reply 
doesn’t open your eyes, 1* shall be very much astonished. 
I don’t want to appear unfeeling, but really and truly, 
the sooner you are brought to your "senses the better it 
will be for you.” 

Whether Douglas’s advice was sound or not, Frank fully 
intended to act upon it, and he did not fail to present 
himself in Eaton Square, that same afternoon, at the hour 
named by Lady Florence. She had asked him to come, 
and he could not help thinking that, in doing so, she 
must have been pretty well aware of what he would say 
to her, supposing that an opportunity for private conver- 
sation should be accorded to him. The only thing that 
troubled him was that he did not quite see what likeli- 
hood there was of his obtaining such an opportunity. 
He saw still less likelihood of it after he had been ushered 
into the drawing-room, which was full of people who 
were drinking tea and eating cakes. Lady Burcote, who 
had her bonnet on, welcomed him with a gracious smile 
and with that extraordinary perpendicular shake of the 
hand which has, for some inscrutable reason, been 
adopted as a modern method of salutation. 

“I hope you are not worn out by your labors of last 
night, Mr. Innes,”' said she. “ Everybody seems to have 
been quite charmed ; but the heat of the room certainly 
was something appalling, and Florry has earned such a 
headache as her reward that she says she would be sick if 
she came with me to a drill-hall where I shall have to run 
off and distribute prizes presently. I’m rather seedy my- 
self ; but nobody ever offers to relieve me of tiresome 
duties. ” 

For obvious reasons, it was impossible to tell by the 
color of Lady Burcote’s face what the state of her health 
might be ; but Lady Florence did not look seriously 
indisposed. Frank, however, remembered that she had 
proclaimed her intention of having a headache, and drew 
deductions which were not unsatisfactory to him from the 
circumstance that she had one. What would be eminently 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


252 

satisfactory would be for her mother to get up and go ; 
and in a very few minutes this is what her mother actually 
did. It may be surmised that Lady Burcote saw no sort 
of danger in permitting an outsider like young -Innes to 
remain behind her. 

‘ ‘ I'm sorry to leave you, good people,” said she, as she 
hastened towards the door; “but my time is up, and 
Florry will look after you. Breathe a prayer for me ; it 
will be required of me to smile and make engaging little 
speeches to a crew of perspiring tradesmen and mechanics 
for the next hour and a half ! ” . 

So far so good ; but Lady Burcote’s friends did not 
follow her example and quit the premises with as much 
alacrity as they might have displayed, had they known 
how very anxious her ladyship’s substitute was to get rid 
of them. They dispersed gradually by twos and threes, 
lingering in a most provoking manner after they had risen 
from their chairs and had put on their gloves ; one very 
objectionable old woman out-stayed all the others, and 
evidently harbored the fell design of out-staying Frank also. 
At length, however, the mournful silence with which her 
observations were received triumphed over her pertinacity, 
and, as Frank held the door open for her, he acknowledged, 
with inward thankfulness, that Fortune had not been 
unkind to him. 

It may be thought that Lady Florence, in making undis- 
guised arrangements for -this tete-a-t£te, meant to be very 
kind to him too, and that, if she did not intend to accept 
him, she must at least have intended him to propose to 
her ; but in reality such was not the case. Nobody takes 
precautions against obvious impossibilities, and not even 
Lady Burcote herself could have been more convinced 
than her daughter was of the impossibility of Mr. Innes 
as a marriageable man. She gave him credit for intelli- 
gence enough to understand that sentimentality is a luxury 
reserved for the rich and the disinterested, and that she 
could not be included in either category. She knew r of 
course, that he admired her ; but she did not think him 
so foolish as to imagine that his admiration could lead to 
anything so preposterous as an engagement, and when 
she had invited him to what she felt must partake of the 
nature of a farewell interview, she had simply acted in 
obedience to the law which impels us all to get what we 
want, if we can. It was, perhaps, an inherited instinct 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


253 


that had caused her to bow to a law of which the over- 
whelming cogency had always been recognized in her 
family. 

And so it came to pass that she was utterly amazed and 
taken aback by the impassioned declaration which Frank 
lost no time in pouring forth. It did not displease her to 
hear that he loved her ; but it frightened her a good deal, 
and she told him so. 

“It is rather too bad of you/’ she added, reproachfully, 
“ to go on like this, after all the trouble that I took to 
secure a last talk with you ! Because it stands to reason 
that we shan’t meet very often, now that the theatricals 
are over, and I am afraid what you have just said will put 
it out of the question for me to meet you at all in future, 
except as a mere acquaintance.” \ 

‘ ‘ Does that mean that you don’t care a straw for me ? ” 
asked the young man dolorously. 

“Oh, I don’t know ! — what difference would it make if 
I cared a whole stack of straws for you ? You know what 
mamma is, and what we have all of us been made to do. 
I suppose, if the worst came to the worst, I couldn’t be 
absolutely forced to marry a man whom I hated, and per- 
haps I shan’t be forced to marry Lord Galashiels ; but I 
can very easily be prevented from marrying a man whom 
I don’t hate.” 

“You don’t hate me; then? Well, that’s something ! ” 

“It isn’t much. It would be if you had Lord Galash- 
iel’s income, but as you haven’t ” 

“Won’t you for one moment, just for one moment — ■ 
put income out of sight ? Supposing that there were no 
such thing as money, and that we were all living in 
Arcadia upon the fruits of the earth, could you, do you 
think, love me a little bit ? — about a tenth part, let us say, 
as much as I love you.” 

The girl gazed at him for a short space, and then, much 
to his surprise and dismay, burst into tears. She had been 
brought up after that fashion ; she had never been taught 
to control herself ; she had been accustomed, just as her 
sisters had been, to give way to her emotions every now 
and then ; almost the only lesson which had been forcibly 
impressed upon her had been that emotions had very little 
to say to the practical business of life. Her sisters had 
cried and had obeyed orders ; it had been permitted to 
them to do the one so long as they did the other ; and her 


254 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


own fate, as well as her conduct, seemed likely to be 
moulded in accordance with precedent. 

Possibly there was no serious departure from precedent 
in the course adopted by Frank Innes, whose arms enfolded 
her, and who was whispering endearing epithets into her 
ears before she could stop him ; but in all probability she 
was the first member of her family who had ever been 
invited, as she presently was, to brave the prohibition of 
her parents and intrust herself and her future to the care 
of a man whose own future was far from being assured. 
After a time she dried her eyes, thrusting him away from 
her and trying to laugh ; but Frank declared that it was 
no laughing matter. 

“Now that I know you love me,” said he, resolutely, 
“ it isn’t little every-day difficulties that will scare me into 
giving you up. We shall have enough to live upon ; I’m 
sure of that, and that’s the essential point. I don’t expect 
Lady Burcote to welcome me with open arms ; but what 
of that ? She can’t have everything her own way, and 
I suppose we might manage to get along without her 
benediction — you and I.” 

The girl shook her head sadly. “You don’t know what 
you are talking about,” she answered. “ I am absolutely 
positive that neither my mother nor my father would hear 
of our marrying ; it isn't to be thought of ! Besides, I am 
not of age.” 

Did that matter? Frank was not quite sure whether it 
did or not ; so he waived the point. ‘ ‘ Parents may turn 
rusty at first, ” said he; “but in the long run they are 
bound to give in, if the man who wants to marry their 
daughter is able to support her, and there isn’t really the 
slightest doubt about my power to earn as much as we 
shall require. Anyhow, I can but ask Lord Burcote — and 
I will.” 

“For Heaven’s sake, don’t do anything so crazy as 
that!” exclaimed the girl. “You think he is good- 
natured, and so he is, in a way ; but before you have said 
a dozen words to him he will have sent you flying out 
of doors and forbidden you ever to show your face here 
again.” 

“ Well, we shall see. But if I am not to speak to your 
father, what am I to do ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” answered Lady Florence, forlornly. 
“Give up thinking about me, I suppose.” 


TEE COUNTESS RADNA . 


2 55 

“ You might as well tell me to go and hang myself at 
once ! No ; I’ll chance that encounter with Lord Burcote. 
It’s the only straight thing to do, and I don’t believe it 
will turn out half as disastrously as you imagine. There 
will be trouble, as a matter of course ; but I should think 
we had pluck enough between us to face that, haven't 
we ? ” 

“ It isn’t a question of pluck,” returned the girl ; “ all 
the pluck in the world wouldn’t help you or me to jump 
ten feet into the air. What would be worth tons of pluck 
to us at this moment would be an ounce or two of common 
sense : if we had any common sense at all, we should 
just say good-bye and have done with it.” 

But neither she nor he, it must be assumed, possessed 
a sufficient share of the valuable quality alluded to ; for 
before they parted, it had been agreed between them that 
Frank should at least try his luck. Even if he should fail 
— as she declared that he was inevitably predestined to 
do — he would not be so very much worse off than he was 
already. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

LORD BURCOTE DOES HIS DUTY. 

Frank Innes was young ; he had always led as healthy a 
life as any man can lead whose avocations compel him to 
reside in London ; he slept soundly and regularly during 
eight hours out of the twenty-four, and his digestion was 
in admirable working order. Consequently, it was well 
within his capacities to take a sanguine view of a des- 
perate situation. Why, indeed, should the situation be 
accounted desperate ? It would have been so, no doubt, 
if Lady Florence had refused him, or if he had no prospect 
of being able to maintain a wife in comfort ; but, since 
she had confessed that she loved him, and since his pros- 
pects were of the rosiest description, he felt not only 
entitled but in honor bound to anticipate ultimate suc- 
cess. He was, of course, prepared for a preliminary 
rebuff, just as he was prepared for that vituperative epistle 


256 


THE COUNTESS RAVNA. 


which was sure to be hurled at him from Scotland in 
answer to his announcement that he proposed to seek his 
fortune as a public singer ; but these were obstacles to 
deter the timid, not the resolute, and he had few misgiv- \ 
ings as to his power to surmount them and to pass the win- 
ning-post a long way in advance of that heavy competitor 
of his, Lord Galashiels. 

It was, therefore, without serious alarm, though not 
without anticipation of an unpleasant quarter of an hour, 
that he returned to Eaton Square early on the ensuing 
morning and asked to see Lord Burcote. Lady Florence 
had told him that, if he was determined to speak to her 
father, his best plan would be to call about breakfast-time. 

“ I don't suppose anything can make much difference," 
she had said ; ££ still, as a rule, Papa is more amiable just 
after breakfast than at any other hour of the day — that is, 
unless his letters have been particularly disagreeable." 

Frank saw some reason to apprehend that Lord Burcote s 
letters had been more disagreeable than usual on that 
especial morning ; for when his lordship entered the 
library, into which the young man had been ushered, there 
were heavy clouds upon his brow and his lips were tightly 
set. People who were in the habit of buying horses of 
Lord Burcote or selling horses to him knew that he could 
look uncommonly grim at times, and were aware that 
when his lower jaw began to project, there was little or 
no hope of getting the better of him. His lower jaw was 
ominously prominent as he said : 

££ Good-morning, Mr. Innes. You want to speak to me 
about something ? ” 

££ Yes," answered Frank, who had made up his mind 
not to show the white feather, and who recognized the 
futility of attempting to break matters gently ; £< I want 
to speak to you about something which I'm afraid you 
won’t like. The fact is that, yesterday afternoon, I told 
your daughter I loved her and asked her to marry me." 

£ £ That, " remarked Lord Burcote, £ £ was pretty cool of 
you." 

££ I know it was ; but I couldn’t help myself : there are 
things which no human being can help saying when he 
gets the chance. Of course I haven’t the smallest pre- 
tension to be Lady Florence’s equal, and I dare say you 
will think that she ought to have refused me point-blank. 
But she didn’t. And, as she didn’t, I could do no less^than 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 57 


apply to you and endeavor to show you that, if you give 
your consent to our marriage, you won’t be handing your 
daughter over to an absolute pauper. At the present mo- 
ment, I confess, I am about as poor as I can be ; but by 
this time next year, if all goes well, I shall be quite com- 
fortably off. I have brought a few letters with me for 
you to look at : you will see by them that my voice is 
worth money and that, if I sing in public next season — as 
I mean to do — I shan’t want for engagements. ” 

“ I won’t trouble you to exhibit your correspondence, 
thank you,” answered Lord Burcote. “ I sincerely hope, 
for your sake, that you will contract a large number of 
satisfactory engagements ; but an engagement to my 
daughter will not be one of them. I don’t know whether 
you wish me to give my reasons for declining this honor. 
I will, if you like ; but I should think it would be super- 
fluous. ” 

“Certainly,” replied Frank, “it would be superfluous 
to demonstrate to me that I am not what the world at 
large would call a suitable match for her ; I don’t assert 
that I am. Still this i$ a free country, Lord Burcote, and 
if your daughter is content to accept what I have to 
offer ” 

“ Oh, but she isn’t,” interrupted Lord Burcote ; “ that’s 
just where you make a mistake. I may as well tell you at 
once that she has spoken to her mother and to me about 
this stupid affair, and she has been made to understand 
that it can’t possibly be allowed to go any farther. I don’t 
blame you — it is ridiculous to blame, anybody in cases of 
this kind — but I trust that, for your own sake as well as 
for ours, you will see the propriety of retiring quietly. 
Why make a fuss when it is so obvious that you can gain 
nothing by fussing ? ” 

“I don’t know what you mean by making a fuss,” 
returned Frank ; “but I know that I shan’t retire, either 
quietly or noisily, until I hear from Lady Florence herself 
that she has changed her mind.” 

“ My good man, she hasn’t a mind to change. She may 
have, or think she has, some sort of vague fancy for you ; 
but it is out of the question for her to indulge it, and 
neither her mother nor I can entertain your suggestion 
for a moment. Between ourselves, I should be greatly 
obliged if you would go away before her mother comes in 
here and says nasty things to you. You will have to go 

i7 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


258 

away in any case, don't you see ; and one would rather not 
have a scene -if one could avoid it." 

The scene, however, could not be avoided. Lady 
Burcote may have distrusted the firmness of her lord and 
master, or she may have been unwilling- to deny herself 
the satisfaction of telling some home- truths to one who 
had so shamefully abused her hospitality : at all events, 
she entered the room before Frank had time to make any 
rejoinder and apostrophized him in a tone akin to that 
which she might have employed towards some dishonest 
tradesman. 

“Really, Mr. Innes," she began, “lam astounded at 
your impudence in coming here and worrying Lord 
Burcote after the manner in which you have behaved. 
Your conduct has been simply infamous ; but it would be 
a waste of time and breath to dwell upon that, and per- 
haps I ought to have known better than to admit you into , 
the house. The least you can do now is to leave it 
immediately ; for I need scarcely tell you that our acquaint- 
ance must be considered at an end." 

“I am not a bit ashamed of anything that I have done, 
Lady Burcote,” returned Frank, “and I am not going to 
take my dismissal from you. As far as blood goes, ours 
is about as good as yours ; so that it is a mere question of 
money. I admit that I haven't much money in the bank 
as yet ; but I was saying just now that I have had offers 
of lucrative engagements as a public singer, and I see 
nothing infamous in my having asked Lady Florence to 
share my prospects, such as they are." 

“Nothing infamous in your having asked my daughter 
to share the prospects of a public singer ! Well, it is 
charitable to assume that you have taken leave of your 
senses. Florence is very young and very foolish : but I 
must say for her that she was not quite so idiotic as to al- 
lude to that agreeable prospect ! Perhaps you will be good 
enough to accept my assurance on her behalf that she has 
not the remotest intention of degrading herself in the way 
that you appear to think practicable.” 

“I don’t think I am quite good enough for that, Lady 
Burcote," answered Frank, whose temper was beginning 
to give way a little. “ You have already called me in- 
famous ; so you won’t be surprised to hear that my infamy 
goes the length of suspecting your veracity. I knew you 
would object to the engagement, and I don’t quarrel with 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


259 


you for objecting- to it, but I won’t be rejected simply be- 
cause you are pleased to say that it is degrading to sing 
in public. If Lady Florence had chosen to reject me for 
that reason, or for any other reason, I should have had to 
submit ; only, as you know, she hasn't rejected me.” 

Lord Burcote, who had sat, with his hands in his 
pockets, listening to the above dialogue, and who, not- 
withstanding his stern expression of countenance, had 
probably been secretly longing to effect his escape, here 
remarked; “I think, Selina, you had better oblige Mr. 
Innes. Send for the girl and let her reject him formally. 
Then, 1 suppose, he will see that there is no more to be 
said.” 

Lady Burcote was not accustomed to being defied and 
would have preferred to sweep all troublesome and ob- 
structive individuals out of her path with her own hand ; 
but, reflecting that, when an object has to be accomplished, 
it is always advisable to accomplish it by the most 
effectual means at command, she rang the bell and told 
the servant who answered it to summon her daughter. 
After a few minutes, during which the combatants neither 
looked at nor addressed one another, Lady Florence 
appeared, with a pale, frightened face. 

‘•'Florence,” said her mother, “Mr. Innes desires — 
rather inconsiderately, I think, but that is more his affair 
than ours — to hear from your own lips that you are sorry 
for having been betrayed into making a fool of yourself 
yesterday and that you have no idea pf disobeying us by 
engaging yourself to him.” 

Lady Florence looked down at the carpet and mur- 
mured; “I told him at the time that you would never 
hear of it. ” 

“Yes, my dear ; and he was probably aware of that 
at the time^ without your telling him. But what your 
father seems to think it necessary for you to say to Mr. 
Innes now is that you refuse him of your own accord.” 

Then Lady Florence raised her eyes and met those of 
her lover. “I’m afraid I must,” said she. “I wish you 
hadn’t insisted upon my saying so — though it was nice of 
you to insist upon it — and — and — I’m sorry. But I'm 
afraid I must. ” 

“I won’t take that as an answer,” cried Frank, hotly ; 
“you have been intimidated, and you aren’t responsible 
for your words. Engagement or no engagement, I don’t 


260 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


count myself released from my promise, and I hope you 
won’t count yourself released from yours/’ 

Lady Burcote opened her lips to speak, but thought 
better of it. Obviously the moment had arrived for the 
head of the family to assert himself, and she made an im- 
perious sign to him to that effect. Thereupon Lord Bur- 
cote pulled himself together and ^discharged a painful 
duty with dignity. 

“Mr. Inpes,” said he, “you cannot, as a gentleman, 
persist. You asked for a distinct rejection from my daugh- 
ter herself, and you have been given what you asked for ; 
you really must not expect our forbearance to stretch any 
farther than that. ” His lordship paused for an instant, 
and then added, somewhat irritably : “ I have told you 
already that I don’t blame you ; but I shall blame you 
very much indeed if you don't go away immediately. 
Surely it must be evident to you by this time that the 
only thing you can do is to go away ! ” 

It was indeed evident that, since Lady Florence re- 
mained silent, that was the only thing to be done ; yet 
Frank was reluctant to acknowledge himself beaten. He 
picked up his hat and stick, and said : 

“Of course I can’t stay here after you have requested 
me to go away, Lord Burcote ; only, before I go, I wish 
to repeat that I consider myself dismissed by you, not 
by your daughter. I am still bound to her, although 
you seem to have frightened her into denying that she is 
bound to me.” 

Lady' Florence glanced up at him quickly and mur- 
mured: “It wouldn’t be of the slightest use for me to 
pretend that we were engaged ; I warned you that it 
wouldn’t. And all I can say is that come what may, I 
won’t marry Lord Gal ” 

“ Florence ! ” interrupted her mother sharply, “you for- 
get where you are and what you are saying. Now that 
Mr. Innes knows all he can possibly require to know, 
you had better leave us.” 

Lady Florence obediently withdrew ; and Frank, after 
allowing her sufficient time to get upstairs, followed her ex- 
ample. His defeat was absolute ; yet he was not wholly 
disconsolate ; for the girl, before leaving the room, had 
contrived to throw him a swift glance of which he had 
correctly interpreted the significance. She was resigned 
to bidding him farewell, because everybody must needs 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


261 


be resigned to the inevitable ; but, in spite of all, she loved 
him and meant to be true to him. 

That was all very well, so far as it went ; the mis- 
fortune was that it did not go very far. She might, and 
he believed that she would, hold out against Galashiels ; 
she might for a certain length of time keep faith with a 
man whom she would never be permitted to meet ; but 
the most obstinate fidelity has its limits, and what hope 
was there of his being able to apply the needful spur to 
hers ? What hope, in truth, was there that when he should 
have made his fortune and she should be of age, she would 
be still unmarried and still tenacious of a bygone affaire de 
cceur P “She will have had to pass through such a heap 
of experiences between this and then ! ” reflected Frank, 
with a sigh. 

Now, it was highly creditable to Peggy Rowley that 
when her friends were in trouble they turned- instinc- 
tively to her. She was known to have helped many a 
lame dog over many a stile ; but probably it was not so 
much on that account that she was made the recipient of 
such numerous confidences as because those who sought 
her sympathy or assistance felt her to be eminently trust- 
worthy. Frank, at all events, could not have expected 
her to assist him in his present unhappy strait ; yet he lay 
in wait for her and, having secured her ear, poured forth 
into it the whole history of his woes. 

“Well,” she said, when he had made an end of speak- 
ing; “I am sorry for you and even more sorry for her ; 
but I don't see what I can do for either of you. Fortu- 
nately or unfortunately, Gretna Green is a thing of the 
past,* and if you won’t submit to dire necessity, Fm afraid 
there is nothing for it but to possess your soul in pa- 
tience. It is just possible — just wildly possible— that you 
may make a few thousands of pounds by singing persist- 
ently for the next three or four years, and that, when you 
have accomplished that much, she may be prepared to 
snap her fingers in her mother’s face and marry you ; but 
to be cruelly candid, I should think the odds were enor- 
mous against the double event coming off. Love isn’t 
eternal, you see : at any rate, it isn’t so in the case of 
nine people out of every ten.” 

“I’m one of the exceptional tenths,” Frank declared 
boldly. “I can’t tell whether she is another or not ; I 
wish I could. That’s just it ; there are so many things 


262 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


which I wanted to say to her and which I shall never have 
the chance of saying now, worse luck ! ” 

Peggy shook her head. “ I really couldn't do it,” said 
she ; ‘ ‘ you must see for yourself that it wouldn't be honest, 
or fair or in any way permissible. If it had been a mere 
question of a farewell interview, with the clear understand- 
ing that the interview was to be final, I might perhaps — 
though I don’t know that I should have been justified even 
then. But if you imagine that I am going to add to all 
my previous indiscretions by asking that girl to tea and 
asking you to meet her, you deceive yourself — you do 
indeed? I have a conscience, and I know my duty to 
my neighbor, little as I love neighbors like Lady Burcote 
and Lord Galashiels.” 

“My dear Miss Rowley,” exclaimed Frank, gratefully, 
“ I never dreamt of such a thing ! But if you could and if 
you would ! ” 

‘ ‘ I couldn’t and I wouldn’t, ” returned Peggy ; ‘ ‘ haven’t 
I just told you so ? Be off, and don't bother me any more. 
I have bothers enough of my own, without taking charge 
of yours into the bargain. Besides, I have a prejudice in 
favor of keeping my hands clean. I won’t be mixed up 
with intrigues.” 

But if Peggy Rowley’s conscience was hard, her heart 
was soft, and it not unfrequently happened to her to in- 
dulge the impulses of the latter, in spite of the behests of 
the former. She was doubtless unpardonable in arranging, 
three days later, a meeting at her house between Lady 
Florence Carey and Frank Innes : but she did that unpar- 
donable thing, and she has since openly declared that she 
does not repent of her sin. 

Frank was not very much surprised when he was asked 
to tea ; he was not in the least surprised to find Lady 
Florence seated with his hostess when he arrived in 
response to the latter’s invitation, and he was more grateful 
than astonished when, after the lapse of about ten minutes, 
Peggy rose and left the room, without so much as alleging 
a pretext for so doing. It was awfully good of her : but 
then she was awfully good, notwithstanding her occasional 
roughness of speech. This was what he said to Lady 
Florence, who answered : 

“ Oh, I don’t know. I suppose she means to be kind ; 
but I am not the sort of heroine that she takes me for, and 
I can’t do the things that she would do in my place. What 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


263 

mamma said to you the other day was perfectly true : Fm 
very sorry for having been betrayed into making a fool of 
myself.’’ 

“ I don’t believe it, ” returned Frank, audaciously. “You 
are frightened of your mother, as well you may be ; but 
from the moment that you have acknowledged that you 
love me, you can’t want or expect me to give you up. ” 

“ It is I who have given you up ; I couldn't do other- 
wise ; though I dare say it seems simple enough to you to 
say ‘ I will ’ or ‘ I won’t. ’ The only thing I can say is that 
I won’t marry Lord Galashiels, and I’m sure I don’t know 
whether I shall be able to go on saying that if he is obstinate. 
It is so easy for you men to get your own way that you 
can’t possibly understand how hard it is for a girl to get 
hers.” 

“I think I do understand,” Frank replied. “I can’t 
ask more of you just now than that you should trust me 
and wait ; if I didn’t know that you love me, I wouldn’t 
ask as much. I’m afraid we shan’t be allowed to meet or 
speak again, unless Miss Rowley chooses to befriend us ; 
but I do want you to believe that, whatever happens, I 
shan’t change ; and when you are of age ” 

“You will have changed by that time,/’ Lady Florence 
interrupted ; “ everybody does, and there’s no help for it. 
I won’t deceive you by promising anything, except that 
I’ll drive Lord Galashiels away, if I can.” 

That was all he could obtain from her at the end of an 
argument which was diversified by some tears and by at 
least one embrace. During the progress of it he was 
divided between pity for the girl whom he loved and 
irritation at what seemed to him very like cynicism and 
heartlessness on her part. He had asserted that he under- 
stood her position ; but he did not really understand it, 
and probably no one except the daughter of a thoroughly 
unscrupulous woman could have realized all its difficulties. 
Lady Florence had taken her departure before Peggy Row- 
ley re-entered the room and said : 

“ Well, are you convinced now ? ” 

“ Convinced of what ? ” asked Frank. “ I am convinced 
that she is in her mother’s power for the present, if that 
is what you mean. ” 

“Ah, that means a great deal. Perhaps you are also 
convinced by this time that I gave you sound advice when 
I warned you against falling in love with poor Florry. 


264 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


You chose to do it, and now you have got to suffer for it. 
1 don't pity you, and it wasn’t for your sake that I disgraced 
myself by asking you here to-day. You'll get over it. Ask 
your cousin Douglas ; he will tell you that there are heaps 
of consolations open to a man in the prime of life — politics, 
cricket, hunting, what you please. Men can go in for a 
hundred things : but women, say what they will, can only 
go in for one thing. And it’s never worth their while to 
do that. Still I’m glad that Florry should have had the 
poor comfort of listening to our protestations, which I'm 
sure were sincere — for the time being.” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

A BLOODLESS ENCOUNTER. 

Peggy Rowley was quite right in affirming that men 
have many other things to go in for besides making love 
and worrying themselves over the complications which 
are only too apt to arise out of a phase of experience 
through which it is the destiny of all mortals to pass at 
least once during their sojourn here below. Trite though 
the reflection may be, it is nevertheless as true as trite re- 
flections always are that the essential superiority of men 
over women consists chiefly in the power, which the 
former possess and the latter lack of thinking of one thing 
at a time and to dismiss what they most care for from 
their minds while they are attending to matters of minob 
importance. It was a matter of minor importance to 
Douglas Colborne whether he became an Under-Secre- 
tary of State or not, whereas his wife’s relations to- 
wards him and. towards other men were — or, if they 
were not, he honestly believed that they were — matters 
of supreme importance to him. But the question of that 
possible Under-Secretaryship had to be considered, cer- 
tain pourparlers had to be exchanged, daily business had 
to be transacted, social duties had to be performed ; and 
so it was that, after the Duchess of Brentford’s entertain- 
ment, he had little leisure for speculating upon what the 
Italian who had been introduced to him on that occasion 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 265 

could have meant by conduct which had been decidedly 
provocative and almost insolent. What he said to him- 
self when his memory and his curiosity did for a time 
busy themselves with that eccentric individual was that 
it is never advisable to meet trouble half-way and that, if 
the Marchese had anything more to say to him, the Mar- 
chese knew, at any rate, where to find him. An ardent 
lover or a jealous husband would have been less cool, 
perhaps ; but Douglas was not of that opinion. He had 
never wavered in his allegiance to Iris wife ; he was ready 
to receive her back at a moment’s notice ; he had nothing 
to reproach himself with. But she had put it completely 
out of his power to take any step so far as she was con- 
cerned. It was for her, or for some one deputed by her, 
to make the next move ; and, all things considered, it 
seemed scarcely probable that the Marchese di Leonforte 
had been despatched to England as her deputy. After 
some days he came to the conclusion that the Countess’s 
admirer — if indeed the man was her admirer — had not, 
after all, crossed the Channel with the amiable intention 
of treading upon his toes, and he was slightly surprised 
when, one morning, just as he was finishing his break- 
fast, his servant brought him a glazed card upon which 
was inscribed, beneath a coronet, the name and title of 
his potential fQe. The gentleman, he was told, was wait- 
ing to hear whether Mr. Colborne would receive him, and 
Mr. Colborne at once replied: “Oh, Certainly; ask him 
to come in.” 

It was not in order to tread upon the toes of a man who 
was very much in his way that the Marchese di Leonforte 
had driven in a hansom to Clarges Street that morning. 
One must needs accept the inconveniences together with 
the conveniences of the epoch in which one lives, and 
Leonforte had become convinced, somewhat against his 
will, that he must forego the satisfaction of dealing sum- 
marily with the Countess Radna’s husband. He had in- 
formed himself ; he had asked a few questions and had 
heard all that he wanted to hear, without having appeared 
inquisitive. He still thought that it would be very de- 
lightful to plunge a fleuret de combat into some part of Mr. 
Colborne’s person which did not contain a vital organ ; 
he was still unable to comprehend how English people 
managed to settle their differences while declining to have 
recourse to sword or pistol, and he was still doubtful as 


266 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


to whether the Countess had not meant him to avenge 
her after that fashion ; but he had ascertained as a fact 
that Englishmen really and truly do not fight duels any 
more ; and what in the world is to be done with a man 
who will neither fight you nor be accounted disgraced 
for having refused to fight you ? The innocent Leonforte, 
after much meditation, thought that he knew what to do 
with Mr. Colborne. During the past few days he had 
talked with men and he had talked with women, and his 
suspicions had received ample confirmation. It seemed 
to be evident and notorious that Mr. Colborne, if he were 
free, would marry Miss Rowley ; and why should not 
Mr. Colborne be set free ? It was provoking and humili- 
ating to be driven to make terms with so despicable a fel- 
low and to reward, instead of punishing, him for his infidel- 
ity ; but there are no insuperable difficulties in the way 
of pardoning those whom one despises, and it had to be 
remembered that his emancipation was necessary for that 
of a far more worthy person. Therefore he followed his 
card into Douglas’s presence wdth as courteous and con- 
ciliatory an air as he could induce his features to assume. 

The two men had to shake hands. Each of them hesi- 
tated, before going through that ceremony, just long enough 
to convey an impression of reluctance to the other ; but 
neither of them wanted to begin quarrelling without pre- 
liminaries, and Leonforte did not want to quarrel at all. 
Why should he, since it seemed that the customs of the 
country forbade him to quarrel in any rational or satisfac- 
tory manner? He did not take the arm-chair towards 
which he was motioned, but, seating himself upon a higher 
and less comfortable one, opened the proceedings by say- 
ing : 

“You are perhaps surprised to receive a visit from me, 
sir ? ” 

“Delighted,” answered Douglas, politely. 

“ I can only accept that assurance as a figure of speech. 
After what passed between us on the occasion of our pre- 
vious meeting, it is impossible that my company can be 
a source of pleasure to you, Mr. Colborne ; nor do I find 
any pleasure in forcing it upon you.” 

Douglas stared and laughed a little. Leonforte’s slow 
enunciation and stilted phraseology irritated him, and he 
hardly knew in what tone to respond. It would have given 
him a good deal of satisfaction to kick the man ; but, that 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


267 

being out of the question, he kept his temper and remarked : 
‘ ‘ I remember that, when we last met, you told me you 
had made my acquaintance against your will, and I believe 
I answered that I hadn’t asked my cousin to introduce me 
to you — or something to that effect.” 

The Marchese bowed gravely. “Your memory is per- 
fectly correct, sir,” replied he. “You may also recollect 
that I mentioned my reason for not desiring to be person- 
ally acquainted with you, and that you were so obliging 
as to hand me your card. In Italy, in France — every- 
where, I believe, except in this country, and perhaps in 
America — such an action could have had only one mean- 
ing, and I should have known what steps to take in conse- 
quence of it.” 

The Marchese paused here and looked so bellicose that 
Douglas laughed again. “ Do you really mean to say,” 
asked the latter, “that you have come here to challenge 
me to mortal combat ? I suppose you do ; though I can’t 
for the life of me imagine why you should. Well, I’m 
afraid I can’t accommodate you : there is no such thing as 
duelling in England nowadays.” 

“I have already intimated,” returned the Italian, “that 
I am aware of the strange condition of things which you 
describe. I will not disguise from you that, if you had 
been a Frenchman or an Italian, I should have the honor 
of sending you my temoins , instead of calling upon you 
personally.” 

“You are too kind. But why would you have done so, 
if I may take the liberty of inquiring ? ” 

“It appears to me, sir, that the question is superfluous. 
If you had not been an Englishman, you would have con- 
sidered yourself insulted — and you would have had a right 
to qonsider yourself insulted — by what I said to you.” 

“ I see. Only then it would have been my privilege to 
send a couple of friends to demand satisfaction from you, 
wouldn't it ? ” 

Leonforte frowned and shrugged his shoulders. He had 
not come to Clarges Street for the purpose of quarrelling 
with Mr. Colborne ; but he had not come for the purpose of 
being laughed at either, and he now perceived that he had 
made a little mistake by alluding to a duel which was not 
going to take place. He was, moreover, somewhat at a 
loss for words, having carefully rehearsed all his speeches 
in advance and being unable to hit upon one which would 


268 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


fit in neatly at the present juncture. He, therefore, mut- 
tered an imprecation in his own language and followed it 
up by saying, in less correct English than he had hitherto 
employed : 

“You do not hold yourself for insulted ? — very good ! — 
very well ! — to me it is all equal. But, as a friend of the 
Countess Radna, I permit myself to tell you that you are 
treating her in a fashion intolerable ! ” 

“Then,” answered Douglas, getting up and standing 
with his back towards the empty grate, “ you permityour- 
self a liberty which isn’t permitted in this country, although 
duelling has been done away with. I don’t mind telling 
you frankly that I wish it hadn’t been done away with, and 
that I should like nothing better than to be given a chance 
of punishing you for your impertinence ; but, as it is, I 
can’t do that without making myself supremely ridiculous. 
For much the same reasons, I can’t resent an affront offered 
to me in my own rooms otherwise than by requesting you 
to be so good as to leave them. I hope you won’t take it 
into your head to fancy that I am afraid of you ; but if you 
choose to do so, you must ; I have no power to prove the 
contrary. ” 

Leonforte, who had also risen to his feet, was slightly 
mollified and slightly ashamed. After all, it was not the 
other man’s fault that the absurd customs of his country 
forbade him to avenge an insult, and it is not very mag- 
nanimous to insult one who labors under such restric- 
tions. 

“Mr. Colborne,” said he, “I have to offer you my ex- 
cuses. I do not doubt your courage, and I was wrong 
to speak to you as I did, since I could sa^ what I pleased 
without risking my skin. Unhappily, I cannot retract 
what I said, because it was true. You have cruelly 
injured a lady for whom I have an esteem and a respect 
of the most profound.” 

Douglas, who had been thoroughly angry for a mo- 
ment, was now half-angry, half-amused and wholly puz- 
zled. The Italian seemed to be an honest sort of indi- 
vidual ; but if he recognized the impossibility of fighting, 
and if he had not come to demand an explanation, what 
did the man want ? After a pause, he said : 

“You can’t suppose that I shall submit to be put upon 
my defence by you. May I ask whether you are here as 
my wife’s representative ? ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


269 

“By no means ! I have not the smallest authority to 
speak on behalf of the Countess ; I speak only as one 
who greatly admires and pities that unfortunate lady, 
and I am here only to suggest to you, sir, that you 
should release her from bonds which you are evidently 
as anxious to break as she can be. You will say, per- 
haps, that the law does not allow you to do so. I be- 
lieve that is the case ; but the Church is above the law, and 
I do not think it would be impossible to obtain a dissolu- 
tion of your marriage from the Holy See. Not desiring 
to be offensive, I will not mention any lady’s name, nor 
will I attempt to hold out inducements ; but it is a matter 
of common conversation that you would willingly re- 
place the Countess Radna by a second wife, and 1 my- 
self have observed 

“My good sir,” interrupted Douglas, “you really are 
talking the most dreadful nonsense I ever heard a man 
talk in my life. Excuse my cutting you short ; but you 
seem to be under a total misaprehension. In the first 
place, you are quite mistaken in imagining that the Holy 
See can annul a legal marriage ; in the second place, I 
haven’t the remotest idea or intention of taking a second 
wife ; and in the third place, I certainly haven’t been guilty 
of any cruelty whatsoever towards the lady who remains 
my wife, although she has seen fit to separate herself from 
me. I don’t owe you any account of the circumstances ; 
but, on the other hand, I have no particular objection to 
giving you one. Upon my honor as a gentleman, I don’t 
to this day know why my wife left me, unless it was be- 
cause she had become tired of me. She didn’t like English 
country life, and I, being a Member of Parliament and 
having a small estate to look after, couldn’t consent to re- 
side abroad. That was the ostensible reason for our part- 
ing, and I am not acquainted with any other, except that 
of which I told you just now.” 

Leonforte gazed at his interlocutor and sighed. “I be- 
lieve that you are speaking the truth, sir, ” he said at length. 

“Thank you ; but if you will reflect for a moment, you 
will perceive that I could have had no conceivable mo- 
tive for telling you a lie. I haven’t asked you any ques- 
tions, and I don’t intend to ask you any. You may have 
had reasons of your own for wishing to bring about an 
impossible divorce ” 

The Marchese threw up his right hand and shook his head. 


270 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


“Oh, I think you must have had reasons ; but I dare 
say they were legitimate reasons enough, considering 
that you have so obviously been made the victim of some 
deception : anyhow, as I said before, I don’t care to in- 
quire into them. But I hope you understand now that, 
instead of talking to a miscreant of romance, you are 
merely talking to an ordinary, commonplace Briton who, 
through no special fault of his own, has been placed in 
an awkward situation from which it is out of his power 
to extricate himself.” 

“Yes,” answered Leontorte, smiling for the first time, 
“I think I can understand; and it may be that I have 
been deceived about you, though I do not believe that 
any one has wished to practise a deception upon me. 
But this situation which you find so awkward — you will 
not attempt, then, to extricate yourself from it by means 
of a divorce ?” 

“Nobody, I suppose, would attempt what is manifestly 
impossible. Moreover, I don’t wish to be divorced from 
my wife, although I gather from what you say that she 
wishes to be divorced from me. Hitherto I haven’t in- 
terfered with her liberty, nor do I propose to do so ; I am 
willing to grant her all the advantages that belong to a 
separation which was not of my choosing. I can’t do 
more.” 

“Ah,” exclaimed Leonforte, half-involuntarily, “you 
would not speak like that if you loved her ! ” 

“Shouldn't I? It seems to me that I should; and I 
might fairly retort that she wouldn't have treated me as 
she has done if She had loved me. However, you may 
tell her from me, if you think it worth while, that I am as 
ready as I have, been from the first to let bygones be by- 
gones, and that I have never been untrue to her either by 
act or by wish. I am afraid no advice of mine is likely 
to be of service to you ; still you might do worse than to 
profit by my experience. The Countess Radna will never 
care for any man long, because she will never be able to 
care much for him after she has satisfied her curiosity by 
finding out all that there is to be found out about him.” 

These words of warning were forced from Douglas by 
a feeling of mortification which he was doing his best to 
subdue. He knew that they were not in very good taste ; 
but he could not swallow them down, and they were 
evidently not without effect upon his visitor, who kept 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


271 


silence for a few instants before looking up and an- 
swering : 

“ I am obliged to you, Mr. Colborne * I think you are 
a gallant man, though your English fashions of behavior 
are to me a little incomprehensible. You have divined 
what I could not have told you without being grossly 
insulting, and it appears that no man can insult another 
in this country. I hope you have divined that I also wish 
to conduct myself as a gallant man ; but what can I say 
to you ? The situation is more than awkward ; it is — it is 
inconceivable ! ” 

“It can’t very well be that, since it exists. I have 
already told you that I am powerless to extricate myself 
from it in its present phjise ; but I may be able to extricate 
myself from it honorably when it enters upon a fresh one 
— as I presume that it will. Whether you will be able to 
extricate yourself from it honorably is another question. 
Perhaps you would do well to consider it while you have 
yet time.” 

Leon forte made one of those expressive gestures which 
the Latin races are wont to substitute for language. 
“You are right,” he exclaimed — “ you are entirely right ! 
Yet it remains true that you do not love her. I will 
report this conversation to her scrupulously ; I have not 
been commissioned by her to seek it, and I do not know 
how she will take my account of it. Personally, I am 
persuaded that I have had a false impression of you, sir ; 
and, whatever may happen in the future, I shall always 
be at. your orders. It is droll ; but — it is like that ! I can 
offer you no other satisfaction. ” 

Leonforte meant to be strictly honest, and Douglas 
gave him full credit for that excellent intention ; but it is 
scarcely surprising that the Countess Radna's husband 
should have formed erroneous conclusions as to the posi- 
tion and privileges of the Countess Radna’s avowed 
admirer. The former, when he had bowed his visitor 
out, was a good deal less calm than he appeared to be. 
It was all very fine for the Marchese to affirm that he 
held no commission ; but he had obviously been informed 
'that the Countess wished for a divorce from her husband. 
Well, it rested with her to obtain what she desired. “She 
can hardly,” thought Douglas, with an angry laugh, 
“expect me to go over to Paris in order to beat her, as a 
preliminary measure.” ^ 


272 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Anyhow, he himself was blameless ; he had nothing 
whatsoever to reproach himself with ; nor was it his fault 
that he could take no step to facilitate her release. The 
only thing that worried him was that phrase of Leonforte’s 
which rang persistently in his ears, “You would not 
speak like that iLyou loved her ! ” Had he ceased to love 
her? If he had, so much the better ; for it had been very 
clearly demonstrated that her love for him was a thing of 
the past. Nevertheless, his conscience was too sensitive 
to grant him a clean bill of indemnity, and it was not 
with political questions that he was preoccupied when 
the time came for him to walk down to Westminster. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

DRAWING-ROOM DIPLOMACY. 

Frank Innes was one of those amiable mortals to whom 
it is always impossible to keep their own counsel. He 
thought too well of his fellow-creatures at large to believe 
that they could take no interest at all in affairs which 
nearly concerned him, and he thought so well of his 
cousin Douglas Colborne in particular that, after the con- 
versation with Lady Florence Carey which has been par- 
tially recorded in a previous chapter, it became a matter 
of imperative necessity for him to look up that perplexed 
politician and tell him all about it. 

“I warned you of what was in store for you,” was 
Douglas’s comment upon the narrative to which he had 
listened with patient attention; “there never was, and 
never could have been, the shadow of a hope that those 
people would look twice at you. ” 

“Oh, yes; I know,” returned Frank, somewhat impa- 
tiently ; “I didn’t expect them to welcome me with bless- 
ings and promises of liberal settlements. But, for all that, 
I don’t see why I should despair yet awhile. You your- 
self, the last time I spoke to you, seemed to admit that it 
was for Lady Florence to say the last word.” 

“Well ; she has said it, hasn’t she ? ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


273 


“In a way she has ; but of course she acted under 
compulsion. She wouldn't have consented to meet me at 
Miss Rowley’s if she had really and finally made up her 
mind to throw me over ; and, what’s more, I don’t believe 
that, if she had, Miss Rowley would have asked her to 
meet me.” 

“That -only shows that Miss Rowley is a very injudi- 
cious friend.” 

‘ ‘ You ought to be the last person to say so ; for she has 
been a tolerably judicious friend to you, by all accounts. 
You must "know that she has. I’m sure you do know it, 
and I’m sure you won’t be so pig-headed as to refuse office 
after all the efforts that she has made to smooth down the 
bigwigs for you.” 

“Upon my word, I didn’t know that she had made any 
efforts on my behalf,” answered Douglas. “If it is true 
that she has, I am very grateful to her, and very sorry 
that she should have wasted her time in that way. The 
question of my accepting or refusing office — supposing 
that it should be offered to me — is a perfectly simple one. 
It depends upon a few straightforward conditions, which 
can’t be affected one way or the other by drawing-room 
diplomacy.” 

“Oh, I expect they can. Drawing-room diplomacy, 
as you call it, counts for something, though I suppose you 
won’t allow that it does, and Miss Rowley is a good 
friend of yours, whether you’ll allow it or whether you 
won't. She is just as anxious as I am, for instance, that 
you should come to an understanding with the Countess 
— or, at least, that you should come to the end of a mis- 
understanding.” 

“You are both of you very kind. Did Miss Rowley 
mention her anxiety upon the subject to you? ” 

“Not in so many words; the truth is that she and I 
have had other things to talk about of late. But I haven’t 
the slightest doubt as to her opinions and wishes, and you 
may depend upon it that she won’t let a chance slip of 
bringing together two people who ask nothing better than 
to be brought together again. By the way, have you seen 
that Italian chap since the evening when I introduced 
him to you ? ” 

“Yes ; he did me the honor to call upon me, and what 
he said certainly did not convey to me the idea that my 
wife was eager for a reconciliation. But aren t we rather 

18 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


2 74 

wandering from the point ? The point, I presume, is that 
Lady Florence would be willing to marry you if such an 
arrangement were at all practicable ; but that she doesn't 
at present see how it'could be made practicable. ” 

“Of course that’s the point, so far as I am concerned; 
and, as I said before, I think it’s a strong enough point 
to keep me from despairing. Why shouldn't I make a 
pot of money upon the stage and the platform ? And why 
shouldn’t she wait until I have made it?” 

“Nothing is more improbable than' that she will wait 
or be allowed to wait ; I can’t pretend to judge what your 
chances of making a pot of money are. Have you writ- 
ten to your father ? ” 

“Rather ! — and had the answer that I knew I should 
get. He has a very pretty literary style when he is out 
of temper, as /he is on most days of the week, and he 
says he hopes I shall have the decency to change my 
name before I exhibit myself in public as a mountebank. 
Fve no doubt I shall be able to oblige him in that respect, 
and, as I’m independent of him, I needn’t quarrel with 
him for calling me a mountebank. Your sanction is a 
good deal more important to me than his — yours and 
Miss Rowley’s. You two have befriended me ; you have 
some claim upon my obedience ; and I’m very glad to 
think that neither of you has positively forbidden me to 
make my fortune in the only way that is open to me.” 

“ I shouldn’t have thought that Miss Rowley had any 
special claim upon your obedience,” said Douglas, who 
was somewhat irritated, without quite knowing why, by 
the prominent part which had been assigned to that lady 
in the above dialogue. “ For my own part, I have no 
pretension to make you obey me and no expectation that 
you would do so, if I were foolish enough to crack the 
whip over your head. Perhaps, though, I may take the 
liberty of remarking that it is scarcely worth while to 
quarrel with your father and throw up your profession 
upon the off-chance that Lady Florence Carey will be so 
romantic as to wait for you and insist upon marrying you 
three or four years hence. Even if she were — and the 
chances are fully a thousand to one against it — how can 
you tell that you will want to marry her three or four 
years hence ? In all probability you will want very 
much to marry somebody else by that time. I suppose 
you won’t believe it ; but it is nevertheless the fact that 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 75 

all human beings ^re inconstant, and that women are far 
more inconstant than men.” 

Frank replied by throwing himself back in his chair and 
laughing aloud. “I beg your pardon, old chap,” said he, 
as soon as he had overcome his hilarity ; “but it is better 
to laugh at you than to swear at you, and one can’t help 
doing the one or the other when you say things which you 
are the last man in the world to take for facts. I know 
exactly what it is : that Italian beggar has put your back 
up, and you’re in an infernal rage with women in general. 
You’ll allow them some few virtues as soon as you find 
out that the Countess is only waiting for you to advance 
a step to meet her. As for me, I’m not going to despise a 
girl who has owned that she loves me until she forces me 
to despise her ; and I'm not going to quarrel with my father 
either. I can’t help it if he chooses to quarrel with me, 
can I ? ” 

Douglas had nothing to add to the remonstrances which 
he had already felt bound to formulate, nor did he deem it 
consistent with self-respect to mention dll the reasons that 
he had for holding a low opinion of women at large and 
of his own wife especially. He thought, however, that 
Peggy Rowley might have known better than to encourage 
a young idiot in his idiocy, and he resolved to tell her what 
he thought in plain words the very next time that he met 
her. He was entitled to treat her as a friend — not to call 
her a slightly officious friend — and one of the most essen- 
tial privileges which belong to friendship is that of free 
speech. 

It so happened that he encountered her, the same even- 
ing, at a crowded official reception, and he would have 
attacked her at once had she not eagerly introduced another 
subject before he had time to open his lips. 

“Am I to congratulate you ? ” she asked. “I do hope 
so ; because, if I am not, I shall be driven to execrate you. 
I tell you candidly that it is more than I ventured to expect 
for you, and most people would tell you that it is more 
than you have earned.” 

“ I haven’t the most distant idea of what you are talking 
about,” answered Douglas. 

“Oh, nonsense ! You mean, I suppose, that all the for- 
malities haven’t been gone through yet ; but you are 
certainly aware that a new Under-Secretary for Foreign 
Affairs has to be appointed, and that you will be that new 


276 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Under-Secretary, unless you are utterly blind to your own 
interests. ” 

‘'No ; I have heard nothing more than rumors. I saw 
several names mentioned in the evening papers ; but mine 
was not among them.” 

“ Naturally it wasn't ; the newspapers invariably name 
the wrong man, and if, by any chance, they were to hit 
upon the right one, it would tell against him. I thought 
you would have had a letter before now ; but, as you 
haven't, I venture to assure you upon my own responsi- 
bility that you are safe to get one. I don't say that you 
have no enemies in high places ; but you have friends 
as well, and your friends have carried the day this 
time.” 

“ Does that mean that I am blessed with unofficial par- 
tisans and that you are the most influential of them ? ” 

“ It means that I have done my little best : you might 
have counted upon me to do that. At the same time, you 
know as well as I do that promotion doesn't go by favor 
in these days. You were certain to get something : all one 
could do was to plead for the best thing going ; and I do 
modestly flatter myself that I have been of some small 
service to you in that way. ” 

The truth was that Miss Rowley had exerted herself 
to the utmost and was not a little proud of what she had 
achieved ; so that she felt proportionately snubbed when 
the recipient of her benefits replied : 

“ It is most kind of you to have interested yourself for 
me ; but I hope you won’t think me very ungrateful for say- 
ing that I would rather not be hoisted into office upon any- 
body’s shoulders. I don’t so very much care about office ; 
but if I am to have it, I should prefer to think that I had 
won it upon my own merits. However, I haven’t been 
asked to take it yet. ” 

Peggy had an almost perfect temper ; but this was a little 
more than she could bear with equanimity. She said : 

“ I don’t know what you would have, and what's more, 
I don’t believe you know either. I apologize for having 
interfered ; I won’t offend in that way a second time. 
Luckily, there is no harm done ; because it is still open to 
you to reject advances with which you won’t be troubled 
again. If you are not satisfied with being shunted on to 
a siding where you will have ample leisure to grow wise 
and gray before anybody comes to disturb you, all I can 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 77 

say is that you will have shown yourself rather hard to 
please.” 

Douglas tried to look penitent, and, being a wretched 
hand at dissimulation, failed signally. It was with an 
irrepressible smile upon his lips that he rejoined: “Ah, 
you do think me ungrateful ! I was afraid you would, 
and I am very sorry for it. All the same, I am not un- 
grateful, and most likely I shan't request the Ministry to 
shunt me, though I shan't break my heart if they do. 
How am I to explain myself to you without seeming 
rude? I am immensely obliged to you ; but — well, life 
isn’t all politics, you see.” 

“Oh, I am not quite so blind as to be unable to see 
that ; but my sight really isn’t keen enough to discern 
your motives for entering upon a political career and then 
declining to play the game. Perhaps, though, you do 
mean to play the game, and it is only my humble inter- 
vention that you wish to. resent. If so, I can but assure 
you once more that you shall not have any cause to com- 
plain of it in future. ” 

It may be true that there is something not altogether 
displeasing to us in the misfortunes of our best friends ; 
but one hopes that it is untrue. What we can all concede 
with less reluctance is that there is occasionally something 
rather pleasing to us in their anger ; and Douglas was not 
ashamed of having irritated a lady who had good-naturedly 
irritated and humiliated him many and many a time. He 
wanted her to understand that he stood in no need of 
patronage, and it looked as if he had succeeded in bring- 
ing that conviction home to her. 

“ I don’t think I have broken the rules of the game up 
to now,” he remarked, “ and I trust that I shall continue 
to pay due respect to them. Only the game and its rules 
are not of supreme consequence to me. I have tried my 
luck at other games and have lost. Such experiences 
breed a philosophic calm and indifference to defeat. The 
sun will go on rising and setting as usual, whether I am 
selected or whether I am shunted.” 

Miss Rowley turned the tables upon him by recovering 
her good-humor and declaring that she had never in her 
life heard philosophic indifference proclaimed with such 
obvious sincerity. 

“When one really doesn't care,” she added, “one 
doesn’t take the trouble to assert how little one cares in 


2 7 8 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA, 


such admirably chosen language. You and I are old 
friends ; so we needn't try to humbug one another. Your 
complaint is easily enough discovered by an old friend : 
it isn't philosophy and it isn’t indifference ; it’s nothing in 
the world but that petulance which prompts a small boy 
to smack the nearest person to him in the face. I confess 
that I don’t like being smacked in the face, and I confess 
that for a minute or two I was very much inclined to 
smack you back ; but I feel better now and I forgive you. 
You also look as if you felt better by this time, and I dare- 
say you are enough of a calm philosopher to take the good 
things sent you by the gods, en attendant micux. Better 
things will come in due course. They have come as far 
as Paris, I hear, and they will step across the Channel, if 
only you will have the patience to refrain from beckoning 
to them.” 

Douglas bit his lips and shook his head. It vexed him 
to be called petulant, because he was conscious of a 
certain degree of petulance ; but he was quite sure that 
Peggy was mistaken as to its cause. Since, however, he 
himself was unable to account for it satisfactorily, he 
thought’ it best to ignore her allusion. 

“ I am sorry if I spoke snappishly,” said he. “ I didn’t 
mean to be snappish ; but the fact is that one’s old friends 
sometimes do rather provoking and incomprehensible 
things. What possible object can you have in encouraging 
this foolish affair between Frank Innes and Lady Florence 
Carey? You can’t, surely, think that you are showing 
the boy any kindness by encouraging him ! ” 

“ If it comes to that, you have no business to think that 
you are showing him any kindness by encouraging him 
to believe that he will be your heir. Set me down as a 
meddling busybody, if you like ; I shall endeavor to 
survive your censure. It is true that up to the present 
time I have done all I could to discourage your cousin ; 
but I don’t promise to go on discouraging him. Why 
shouldn’t he have his little romance, like the rest of us ? 
And why shouldn’t Florry have hers ? Say what you will, 
they may marry eventually, if they are steadfast enough, 
in spite of you and me and Lady Burcote and all the 
dictates of common sense. Such things have happened 
before now. ” 

“ Not very often, have they? ” 

“Oh dear, yes, I should think so — heaps of times ! But 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


2 79 


you are like all men ; you think that the world was 
created only for you, and that everybody’s love-affairs, 
except your own, are sheer foolishness. Here comes the 
Prime Minister, with a benevolent look in his eye, which 
is evidently meant to catch yours. Go and hear what he 
has to say to you, and don’t be as cheeky to him as you 
have been to me, or he will make short work of you. 
Seriously, and as my last word, you ought not to be too 
hard upon me if I am a busybody. What else is there 
left for a lone, lorn woman to be ? And I haven’t injured 
either you or your cousin yet by my intermeddling.” 

Peggy disappeared into the throng, and the Prime 
Minister, who, it seemed, really did wish to speak to Mr. 
Colbor'ne, took her place. The great man was very kind 
and very complimentary ; Douglas would have had no 
excuse for being cheeky to him, even if he had wished to 
manifest his independence after that unwise fashion ; nor 
did he feel that he had any excuse for refusing the post of 
responsibility which was presently submitted to him for 
acceptance or rejection. He was told candidly that his 
support in the House of Commons was considered worth 
the high price offered for it ; sundry observations which 
he deemed it incumbent upon him to make were listened 
to attentively and answered in a manner which satisfied 
him, and when he went away, he could not help being 
conscious that he was a much bigger personage than he 
had been earlier in the evening. 

Some men, of course, are far more tovetous of public 
honors and distinctions than others ; but only a very few 
positively dislike them,- and Douglas Colborne did not 
belong to that select band. Although success in public 
life could not compensate him for the total failure which 
he felt that he had made of his private life, it was at least 
of some value as a consolation. Only he still wished that 
such success as had fallen to his share had not been 
brought about by the exertions of Peggy Rowley. He 
said to himself that she was indeed a true friend and that 
he was very fond of her, but that it was a little absurd on 
her part to patronize him, to laugh at him for what she 
was pleased to call his petulance, and to treat him as 
though she had been so very much older and wiser than 
he was. Then he remembered what Leonforte had some- 
what impertinently said, and recalled certain remarks 
quite as impertinent which had been made by other 


280 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


people and had reached his ears. It really seemed a pity 
that Miss Spofforth, or somebody else who possessed ex- 
perience and influence, should not breathe a word of warn- 
ing in the proper quarter and remind Peggy that she 
was neither aged enough nor ugly enough to despise the 
purveyors of scandal. For a moment he thought that he 
would do this himself, but upon further consideration he 
decided that he wouldn't. Such a caution, coming from 
him, might strike her as ridiculous, and she seemed to 
consider him sufficiently ridiculous, as it was. 

On the following day he went to see his mother, who 
was overjoyed on hearing that he had accepted office, and 
who confidently predicted a brilliant career for him. 

“Only,” she added, “I do wish that you could make 
an end of your unhappy and quite uncalled-for difference 
with poor, dear Helene. She won’t write to me, so I 
can’t tell what; her ideas are ; but it is too absurd that 
there should be a deadly quarrel about nothing at all. 
You will have to begin entertaining your friends before 
long, and your present position is — well, you won’t mind 
my calling it anomalous.” 

“ I don’t mind your treating it to any epithet that you 
may consider suitable,” answered Douglas; “but I’m 
afraid it will have to remain what it is. There is no prac- 
ticable method of altering it that I know of. ” 

Mrs. Colborne was restrained by her religious princi- 
ples, as well as by her reluctance to drive a large fortune 
out of the family, from suggesting an appeal to the Presi- 
dent of the Probate, Divorce and Admiralty Courts ; but 
Loo, who followed her brother downstairs after he had 
taken his leave, was less discreet. 

“ If Helene refuses to come back to you, the law ought 
to set you free from her,” the girl declared. 

“ Perhaps so,” answered Douglas, smiling ; “ but, as a 
matter of fact, the law can’t set me free, so long as she 
abstains from replacing me.” 

“Then I wish — no, I won’t say that I wish that. But 
I do wish that you had never married her, and that you 
had married Peggy Rowley instead ! It seems very 
hard that people should be punished all their lives long 
for having made a little mistake ! ” 

Possibly it was hard, and possibly he had made a mis- 
take ; he could not quite make up his mind as to either 
point. But what was as clear as daylight was that it 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


28 


behoved him to dismiss a dangerous subject from his 
thoughts. After all, he had no right whatsoever to take 
it for granted that Peggy Rowley would have married 
him if he had wished her to do so ; and he was still in 
love — more or less in love — with the woman whom he 
had married. Leonforte, to be sure, had asserted that he 
was not; but. Leonforte did not understand Englishmen. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

> 

LOVE TURNS SOUR. 

The Marchese di Leonforte was a humbled and saddened 
man as he walked away from Clarges Street towards the 
hotel in which he had taken up his temporary abode. 
He had arrived at a tolerably clear comprehension of the 
state of affairs, and that was, so far, satisfactory ; yet he 
was painfully conscious of having failed altogether to 
carry out his original purpose, which was not satisfactory 
at all. To avenge an insulted, injured and adorable lady 
ought to have been so simple ! But what are you to do 
when inexorable and irrational custom snatches your 
weapons out of your hands ?, As he said to himself, ad- 
dressing an imaginary controversialist, “ che vuole P The 
times are bad ; but they are what they are, and we live 
in them. The old remedies were the best ; only it appears 
that they are obsolete, and we have no choice but to utilize 
the new ones. For the rest, I do not blame this cold- 
blooded Englishman, whose only fault is his insensibility ; 
and that he cannot help. He has his excuses — I do not 
deny them — but, per Dio! if she required excuses, she 
would have hers. What does it all come to ? That he is 
united to a woman whom he is incapable of appreciating, 
and who must, at all hazards, be released from him. 
How ? You are wanting in intelligence if you put such a 
question, considering that we are now near the end of the 
nineteenth century. I do not like it ; I do not pretend to 
think it moral or noble or even decent ; but I venture to 
remind you that it is not I who have made society what it 
is, nor I who chose the date of my birth. ” 


282 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Not a few of the pedestrians in Piccadilly turned round 
to stare at the tall, black-browed foreigner who strode 
past them, accompanying these muttered self-commun- 
ings with appropriate gestures. But he heeded neither 
their curiosity nor their smiles, being in imagination very 
far away from the streets of London at the time. It was 
not that endless prospect of stunted red-brick buildings 
and wood pavements and omnibuses and hansom cabs 
that his dreaming eyes saw, but the sun-baked hills of 
Sicily, with their white towns and villages, perched upon 
the heights, their orange and lemon groves nestling in 
sheltered valleys and the snow and fire of Etna towering 
above them against a melting blue sky. Sicily is to all 
intents and purposes * as remote from the world as 
Central Africa ; two people who loved each other and 
found one another’s society all-sufficient might well be 
happy together in its lovely scenery and divine climate, 
despising sneers and censures to which their ears would 
necessarily be closed. To elope with another man’s wife 
is, to be sure, a deadly sin ; but repentance and reparation 
are open to all sinners, and Leonforte, like many other de- 
vout persons of his nation and temperament, had notions 
with regard to the meaning of repentance and reparation 
which do not obtain amongst the cooler and more logical 
races who inhabit the northern regions of Europe. There 
would be a divorce, followed in due course by a marriage, 
which the Church would dpubtless not refuse to sanction. 
The remedy was in some respects an ignoble one ; but it 
seemed to be the only remedy, and when matters - have 
reached the stage of becoming intolerable, a remedy of 
some sort must needs be discovered. For his own part, 
he had proclaimed his readiness to fight Mr. Colborne, 
should that gentleman think fit to throw down the glove ; 
he could do no more. As for the Countess, whom he 
pictured to himself as a sort of modern Andromeda, pray- 
ing Heaven to set her free from a curiously amenable 
monster, it was scarcely likely that she, with her free- 
thinking proclivities, would spurn the suggestion of an un- 
lawful and irreligious union which might perhaps last for 
six months or so before it could be legalized and sanctified. 
At any rate Perseus, modern against his will, had been 
granted no other sword with which to sever her bonds. 
It was true that she might have no fancy for a Sicilian 
Perseus and might prefer her bonds and even her unob- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


283 

trusive monster to his succor; but that was just what 
must be ascertained. There was no alternative that the 
Marchese di Leonforte could discern. 

He packed up his clothes, paid his bill and took his 
ticket for Paris by the night mail, leaving quite a large 
number of engagements to take care of themselves. 
English society had shown itself hospitable, and, under 
other circumstances, he would gladly have prolonged his 
stay in a capital which was not devoid of attractions for 
him; but ‘great considerations swallow up small ones. 
He could not have explained himself by post, nor could 
he rest until he should have seen the woman whom he 
loved and heard his doom pronounced by her lips. It 
was not even certain that he would see her ; for she had 
made no promise to remain in Paris, and the thought that 
she might already have flitted elsewhere sufficed to keep 
him wide awake throughout the tedious night’s journey. 

That disappointment, however, was spared him. When 
he hurried off to the Avenue Friedland on the ensuing day, 
he was told that the Countess was at home, although she 
was “ un peu souffranie” and it was doubtful whether she 
would receive visitors. After a brief delay, during which 
his card was. conveyed to her, it was intimated to him 
that he might enter, and presently he was conducted to 
her boudoir, where he found her extended upon a sofa, 
with an open French novel lying upon l)er knees. She 
held out her left hand to him without moving, and said : 

“Back already? It appears that London has made 
haste to weary you. Au fait , I did not expect you to fall 
in love with those people at first sight ; they are an ac- 
quired taste, and you do not assimilate fresh tastes easily.” 

“ I liked them,” answered Leonforte ; “ they were very 
kind to me. I could not stay with them, because— but I 
will give you an account of it all as soon as you have 
told me about yourself ; I am grieved to hear that you 
have been ill since I left.” 

“I am abominably ill ; I haven’t the strength to stir, 
and I cough all the night through. Dr. Schott pulls a 
long face and would like me to make my will, in case of 
accidents ; only he is afraid that his name might not ap- 
pear in it if he were to offer such unwelcome advice. I 
am not going to die yet, though ; and when I do die he 
will have reason to jump for joy, supposing that he has 
the good luck to survive me. Let us talk of something 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


284 

less lugubrious. Sit down wherelcan see you, and relate 
your adventures. Have you brought me the odds and 
ends that I left in Carlton-House Terrace? ” 

Leonforte threw up his hand and struck himself on the 
forehead. “Ah, madame,” he exclaimed, despairingly, 
“ I do not know what to say to you ! It was atrocious of 
me ; but the truth is that I forgot your commission alto- 
gether ! What shall I do? Shall I return at once and 
execute it ? By this time to-morrow I can be with you 
once more, and your orders will have been carried out.” 

She laughed and answered that she would not impose 
so troublesome a task upon him. “Nothing would be 
more simple than to send one of the servants across to 
England if I wanted to look at my little toys again,” said 
she; “but I am not sure that I want to look at them, 
after all ; they might remind me of incidents which I 
would just as soon forget. Pray don’t look so ashamed 
of yourself ; you haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. 
At least, I trust that you haven’t. Now whom did you 
see over there? — and who was it who treated you so 
kindly? Not Lord and Lady Burcote, I should imagine.” 

“Yes, indeed ; they were most amiable. They invited 
me to dinner and presented me to many ladies and gen- 
tlemen. I saw also a young Mr. Innes, who spoke of 
you with gratitude and desired to be remembered to you. 
And I saw Miss Rowley, and — and Mr. Colborne.” 

“We will come to him later on, if you don’t mind. 
Tell me about the others, and especially about Frank 
Innes. I was very fond of him — more so than of any 
Englishman whom I can remember — and I think he 
might have found time to write to me in all these months. 
But perhaps he did not know my address. Well ; how is 
he getting on ? ” 

Leonforte related what little he knew about a youth in 
whom he felt no particular personal interest. It was not 
of Frank Innes nor of Frank Innes’s chances of blossom- 
ing out into a successful professional singer that he had 
come to Paris to talk ; but since it pleased the Countess 
to dwell upon this and upon other equally unimportant 
topics, he bowed to her wishes. Sooner or later she 
would have to mention her husband ; and then it would be- 
come at once his duty and his privilege to say to her what 
he was firmly resolved not to leave the house without 
saying. But his patience was somewhat severely tried 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


285 

before she saw fit to come to the point. It was not until 
she had cross-examined him minutely as to his impressions 
of the Burcotes, as well as of a dozen other members of 
the British aristocracy, and had laughed heartily over 
some of his replies, that she remarked carelessly : 

“You don’t understand any of them a bit ; but then I 
knew you wouldn’t. I wonder how far you advanced 
towards understanding Mr. Colborne, who is neither 
more nor less incomprehensible than the rest of them. I 
think you said that you did make acquaintance with 
him.” 

“Yes, madame, I made acquaintance with him, ’’ an- 
swered the Marchese, gravely ; “if I had not advanced as 
far as that, I should not be here now. I cannot say that 
I entirely understand him, or any of his fellow-country- 
men ; but that, perhaps, was not necessary. I think I 
can understand that he is what we call in Italy galantuo- 
mo, within the limits fixed by the peculiar customs of Eng- 
land, and I am sure that I can understand his intentions. 
He accepts the situation tout bonnement ; he will do noth- 
ing to alter it ; certainly he will make no scandal, nor 
will he compromise Miss Rowley, who appeared to me to 
have assumed rather prematurely the role of an old maid. 
At the same time he allowed me to perceive that the sit- 
uation was not agreeable to him. ” 

A slight flush colored the Countess’s cheeks, and al- 
though she smiled at her interlocutor, her smile expressed 
neither affection nor respect. ‘ ‘ Dear me ! ” she exclaimed ; 
“so you talked the situation over together quietly and 
amicably, like two sensible men ! That is quite what I 
should have expected of him, if it isn’t precisely what I 
should have expected of you. And no doubt you ended by 
agreeing that the only satisfactory solution would be for 
me to betake myself to England with a hair shirt on my 
back and peas in my shoes, to prostrate myself before my 
husband and implore him to treat my past indiscretions 
with clemency.” 

The truth was that she was very angry and bitterly dis- 
appointed. She had wanted to humiliate Douglas ; she 
had wanted to render him publicly ridiculous ; and now it 
seemed that thq envoy whom she had deemed safe to dis- 
charge that kindly mission had tamely consented to parley 
with the enemy. She had half a mind to dismiss him from 
her presence forthwith ; only she was curious to hear, 


286 THE countess radna. 

before he went, what had actually passed between him and 
her husband. 

Leonforte, stung by her undisguised contempt, hastened 
to enlighten her. “ Madame,” said he, “you speak to 
me as if I were a coward. I will not complain of your 
speaking to me in that way, because, like myself, you are 
not English, and it may be that the habits of Englishmen 
are in some respects as strange to you as they are to me. 
But do not condemn me unheard. I was willing — I was 
more than willing, I was most eager — to fight Mr. Col- 
borne ; I considered that he had at least slighted you, and 
nothing would have rejoiced me more than to avenge the 
slight in your name. But how could I challenge a man 
who told me in so many words that honor, as it is under- 
stood in England, did not compel him to accept my chal- 
lenge ? For the rest, I must do him the justice to say that 
he was not afraid of me ; he was only afraid of making 
himself laughed at. ” 

“You do not seem to have been troubled by any such 
apprehension. What title you can have fancied that you 
had to pick a quarrel with Mr. Colborne in my name I can- 
not guess ; but, having done so, ycoi would have been 
just a shade less absurd, I should think, if you had slapped 
him in the face, instead of lamenting your inability to poke 
a hole through his right arm. ’’ 

Leonforte winced and his eyes blazed for a moment, but 
he did not lose his self-command. “ I do not believe that 
any man could have acted otherwise than as I acted/’ he 
replied. “I told Mr. Colborne that I would report faith- 
fully to you the conversation which I had with him, and 
I will do so now, if I may claim your forbearance for a 
short time.” 

She made a disdainful sign to him that he was at liberty 
to proceed, and she refrained from interrupting the recital 
of which he delivered himself with scrupulous exactitude, 
although she was more than once tempted to tell him that 
he had .said quite enough. But her countenance and her 
manner were ominously composed when he ceased, and 
when she remarked : 

“ All this is most interesting, and I am charmed to hear 
how thoroughly you appreciate my husjjand and the many 
virtues which adorn his character. You have been a little 
impertinent; but one must pardon impertinence which 
goes hand in hand with such disinterested friendship and 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 287 

% 

such benevolent intentions. I presume that you have torn 
yourself away from your English friends only in order to 
suggest that I should return to be welcomed by them with 
open arms. It is a seductive picture ; I have hardly the 
heart to hold out against converting it into a reality. Shall 
we make the journey together? And will you go to the 
Gare du Nord this evening and order a saloon carriage for 
me ? ” 

“Ah, don't jeer at me ! ” cried Leonforte, who felt that 
he had now honorably acquitted himself of all his obli- 
gations towards the man whom he desired to supplant. 
“Don't you see that I was bound to tell you what Mr. 
Colborne said ? I have repeated his own words to you ; 
he has not intended to be cruel ; he would not be cruel to 
you intentionally if you went- back to him. But of course 
you cannot and will not go back ; of course you cannot 
consent to live with one who has no real love for you ; and 
of course~you cannot be satisfied with a separation which 
leaves you only nominally free. I have thought it all over : 
it is plain that there must be a legal divorce, and it is not 
less plain that he will not help you to obtain such a divorce. 
What, then, remains to bn done? Nothing, except that 
you yourself shopld compel him to demand it. Ah, dear 
Countess, I am not worthy of you ; but at least I love you, 
and I ask nothing better than to be allowed to devote my 
whole life to you ! It is not every day, believe me, that 
you will meet with such a love as mine ! Come with me 
to Sicily, where we can forget the world and where we. 
shall be hidden from it. When once the divorce has been 
pronounced by the secular authorities, you will "be free to 
assume my name, and our union — I feel certain of it — will 
receive the sanction of the Church.” 

He had fallen upon his knees beside her sofa and had 
seized her hand, which she withdrew from his grasp with 
a sudden jerk as she swung her feet to the ground and 
stood erect before him. 

“Is it possible,” she exclaimed, “for a man who is 
not a downright imbecile — at least, not much more of an 
imbecile than the ordinary run of men — to insult me so 
grossly and yet to deceive himself into the belief that he 
is rather paying me a compliment than otherwise ! Evi- 
dently the thing is possible, since you are grovelling there 
upon the carpet as a living proof of its possibility ; but I 
assure you that nothing short of this ludicrous spectacle 


288 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


could have brought conviction home to me. Even now, 
I am altogether at a loss -to understand what excuse you 
can have had for imagining that I was enamored of you. ” 

Leonforte. scrambled up, looking pale and terribly dis- 
concerted. 

“ You mistake mef” he returned ; “I have never dared 
to imagine what you speak of ; I have only told you what 
you knew beforehand, that I love you with all my heart 
and soul ; I have only ventured to offer you ” 

“ You have no right to offer me anything,” interrupted 
the Countess impatiently; “you had no right in the 
world to suppose, as you seem to have supposed, that I 
sent you to London in order to make an unheard-of and 
degrading compact with my husband. I might say that 
I never sent you to London at all ; but I don’t care to 
shelter myself behind that equivocal defence. I did vir- 
tually send you ; and would you like to know why you 
were sent? Simply because you are an uncivilized Ital- 
ian bully, and because I assumed that you were more 
likely than not to make a laughing-stock of Mr. Colborne 
by pulling his nose in the lobby of the House of Com- 
mons or in the open street. You are quite right in say- 
ing that I mistook you, and assuredly you have mistaken 
me. As you cannot be of the slightest use to me in the 
future, perhaps you will now be so good as to retire and 
never come back again.” 

He was utterly amazed by her brutal candor. It came 
upon him as a horrible revelation, transforming, as it 
were, the woman whom he had loved and hitherto re- 
spected into a sort of fiend before his very eyes. He 
might have guessed that her heart belonged to her hus- 
band, that she had been exasperated beyond all bearing, 
and that her wrath, coarse though the manifestation of it 
was, was not wholly ignoble ; but he had little insight 
into human nature and little comprehension of common 
inconsistencies. 

“Madame la Comtesse, ” said he, in a voice which 
trembled slightly, despite all his efforts to keep it steady, 
“you were very kind to me when my life was in dan- 
ger ; you would have been kinder still if you had allowed 
me to die, since you are what you tell me that you are. 
You say I have grossly insulted you. That may be ; 
but you cannot think that I have meant to insult you, 
and I cannot doubt that you have meant to insult me. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


289 

It only remains for me to promise you that your orders 
shall be obeyed and that you shall never again, if I can 
help it, be annoyed by the sight of my face.” 

He bowed and made straight for the door, scarcely 
heeding the scornful laugh with which she responded to 
his parting speech. She said something about his having 
rendered it absolutely imperative upon her to enlighten 
him ; but it really did not matter what she said. She 
had managed to persuade him that she was heartless, 
cruel and revengeful : if that was the process of enlight- 
enment at which she had aimed, her object had been 
more than achieved. 

Now, it is always an imprudent thing, and it is seldom 
or never an impossible thing, to convert love into hatred. 
The imprudence is greatly magnified when the converted 
or perverted lover happens to have Sicilian blood in his 
veins, and the Countess might have realized this, had she 
taken the trouble to study Leonforte’s character. She had 
given him what his fellow-countrymen call cattivo sangue ; 
she had reduced him to a condition of mind in which his 
fellow-countrymen are extremely apt to have recourse to 
poison or the stiletto, and she had earned for herself an 
enmity very different from that which her English hus- 
band was capable of entertaining towards her. But she 
was unaware of these circumstances ; nor, possibly, would 
she have cared very much if she had been aware of them. 
The Marchese was not, and never had been, anything to 
her. She was indignant against him, and glad to have 
been able to hurt him, and glad to have got rid of him — • 
that was all. She dismissed him from her memory with 
as much ease as she had dismissed him from her pres- 
ence. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

LEONFORTE DOES WHAT SEEMS PRACTICABLE. 

The Anglo-Saxon race (which, it must be owned, is not 
given to ignoring, through any excess of modesty, the 
many sterling qualities which are its inheritance), might 
well return thanks for a few negative blessings, as well as 

T 9 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


290 

for those positive and obvious ones conferred upon it by 
Heaven. We are, for example, practically unacquainted 
with that intense desire for vengeance which is one of the 
most irresistible passions that beleng to the Southern 
nature. An Englishman, when he has been wronged by 
another man, usually wishes to thrash that man, and is 
not at all unlikely to carry his wish into effect. If, for 
one reason or another, he is precluded from so doing, he 
either has recourse to the law or swallows down his 
wrath : it would not give him any satisfaction to stab his 
adversary in the back. When his adversary chances to 
be of the opposite sex, he can do nothing, and does not 
care to do anything, except turn his back upon her : 
women cannot be thrashed, nor would there be much 
comfort in finding out their vulnerable points and striking 
them there. But Consuls at Mediterranean sea-ports are 
well aware that Spaniards, Italians and Greeks feel quite 
differently. These people allow the sun to go down upon 
their wrath ; they do not mind waiting for months and 
years before paying off old scores ; they almost always 
pay them off eventually, and, as far as can be judged from 
their statements when they are placed in the dock, they 
appease the voice of conscience rather than awaken it by 
their tardy reprisals. Something there must be in their 
temperament which is foreign to ours, and consequently 
incomprehensible to us, but which, if we are prudent, we 
shall do well to take into account before falling out with 
them. 

The Countess Radna, who was fearless by constitution, 
and who had been rendered somewhat disdainful of 
humanity at large by the force of circumstances, had no 
conception of the tempest which she had aroused in the 
breast of her rejected admirer. As has been said, she 
dismissed him forthwith from her memory, and she would 
have been greatly astonished to hear that the man who 
had taken leave of her with a certain dignity and out- 
ward appearance of composure would, if a dagger had 
been placed in his hand, have killed her and then com- 
mitted suicide almost unhesitatingly and certainly with- 
out compunction. The only reasons why no such tragedy 
had been enacted were, in the first place, that he had not 
been provided with a lethal weapon and, in the second, 
that he had learnt by a rigid course of self-discipline to 
control his impulses. But in Sicily revenge and the neces- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


291 


sity for it scarcely belong- to the category of mere im- 
pulses. Leonforte knew that an angry man — that is to 
say, a man whom anger affects as it affected him — is 
neither more nor less than a lunatic : in early life he had 
perceived, partly through personal experience and partly 
through observation of others, that it is ignoble to fall, 
even for a few instants, under the sway of sheer lunacy. 
He had therefore set himself to subdue his nature, and had 
been successful, although in subduing it he had not 
changed it. When he had told the Countess that she 
should never, if he could help it, see his face again, he 
had not meant to imply that he had done with her. It 
was as clear to him as the sun in Heaven that he must 
avenge the affronts with which he had been loaded by 
her, and so strangely are some varieties of the human race 
constituted that he would have parted with all sense of 
self-respect had he consented to disappear then and there 
out of her life. She had called him an uncivilized Italian 
bully ; she had told him, with a cynicism which she had 
not thought it worth while to disguise, that he had been 
employed by her solely in that supposititious capacity ; 
she had not only mortally offended him but had degraded 
herself in his estimation to such a degree that he now 
regarded her with a loathing akin to that which converted 
idolaters seem to experience towards their false gods. 
Neither the converted idolaters nor men of the stamp of 
the Marchese di Leonforte are apt to realize that their false 
gods and goddesses are but figments of their own imagina- 
tion and that it is idle to quarrel with abstractions. 

The non-existent being whom Leonforte took for the 
Countess Radna was no abstraction to him ; she lived and 
breathed in the person of the lady who bore that name, 
and it was a question whether she ought to be suffered to 
live and breathe any longer. At the very least, life must 
be made a dubious advantage for her. He could no more 
think of forgiving her for having so horribly deceived him 
than he could have thought of forgiving the murderer of 
his nearest relations. 

Now this was all very fine, and there was some relief, 
though not very much, to be gained by pacing up and 
down his room half the night through and beating his head 
against the wall at intervals ; but when, in the gray light 
of dawn, he began to take stock of the means at his com- 
mand, he did not find it so easy to see how the existence 


292 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


of this wicked woman was to be rendered hateful to her. 
What, after all, was he to do to her, unless he assassinated 
her ? Of her beauty and her wealth he could not deprive 
her ; and if, by denouncing her to her husband, he could 
deprive her of that slight clog upon her freedom she would 
be much obliged to him. Nevertheless, he eventually 
resolved to take that preliminary step. It would not be a 
long step ; but it would be a shade better than total inac- 
tion, and he had divined that, although she did not love 
Mr. Colborne, it would gall her to hear that she had - 
acquired Mr. Colborne’s disgust and contempt. More- 
over, England seemed to offer more opportunities of serv- 
ing her an ill turn than could be hoped for in Paris. With 
time and patience opportunities are pretty sure to arrive 
anywhere ; but the wise man seeks the most promising 
field. 

Thus it came to pass that Leonforte was back in his 
London hotel within thirty-six hours of his departure 
thence, and that, twelve hours later, he was once more 
seeking admittance into those Clarges Street rooms which 
he had previously visited on quite another errand. He 
found the new Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs 
in the act of flitting. Friends had represented to Douglas 
that it was hardly consistent with the dignity belonging to 
his official position and the salary attached thereto that he 
should continue to live in lodgings ; so he had taken a 
furnished house in the same street for a few months, and 
was about to move into it when the Italian’s card was 
brought to him. Pie was very busy ; he did not want to 
be interrupted, and he was by no means desirous of hold- 
ing further parley with one whose relations towards him 
and his wife seemed to have been exhaustively discussed 
in a previous interview. Still since the man had appar- 
ently thought fit to return to the charge, it was perhaps 
necessary that he should be received, and he was received 
accordingly. 

“I am afraid I can’t spare you more than a few min- 
utes,” Douglas began by saying. “ My time is not my 
own, and, as you see, I am in the act of effecting a change 
of quarters. Please, don’t think me rude if I beg you to 
say at once what I can do for you. ” 

‘ £ I am sorry that I have intruded upon you at an in- 
convenient moment, Mr. Colborne,” answered the other • 
“but I will not detain you long. A few minutes will 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


293 


suffice for what I have to say to you. You can do nothing 
for me ; but possibly I may be able to do something for 
you, and that is my excuse for being here. Since I last 
had the honor of calling upon you I have been to Paris, I 
have seen the Countess Radna, and I have reported to her, 
as I promised you that I would, the substance of our con- 
versation. I think it only fair to tell you that her recep- 
tion of me was not what I had anticipated, and that I now 
know her better than I did two days ago. Sir, you have 
done well to separate yourself from that woman ; she has 
no heart.” 

“Hasn't she?” returned Douglas, with a smile. “I 
don't know whether I ought to congratulate you or con- 
dole with you upon having made that discovery ; but I 
believe I mentioned to you before that it is not I who 
have separated myself from her ; it is she who has sepa- 
rated herself from me. Did you come here simply and 
solely in order to inform me that my wife has no heart ? ” 

“ I came,” replied the Marchese, “ in order to tell you 
the truth about her ; you ought to know it, I will not 
speak of myself — naturally, you can feel no sympathy for 
me — but you will probably' comprehend the Countess as 
I now comprehend her when I tell you that, by her own 
confession, she sent me to England in the hope that I 
should hold you up to public scorn and shame by pulling 
your nose in the open street. That, she admits, was her 
only object, and she has turned me out of her house, like 
a disobedient valet, because I have not gratified her.” 

“ I thought/' observed Douglas, “ that you had denied 
being the bearer of any commission from her. If you had 
tried to pull my nose in the street, I should probably have 
tried to knock you down ; you wouldn't have brought any 
very alarming amount of public scorn and shame upon me 
in any case. I suppose what you mean is that you have 
been duped and that you are angry. Well, as you truly 
say, it would be contrary to nature for me to sympathize 
with you.” 

“I do notask for sympathy ; I ask only that you should 
believe that I have acted in good faith. On my side, I 
believe that you also have acted in good faith. I spoke 
the truth when I said that I held no commission from the 
Countess : nevertheless, it was on her behalf that I came 
to London, and she encouraged me to make the journey 
for a purpose which I was far from suspecting. You and 


294 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


I, Mr. Colborne, we are both honest men, and we have 
both been the dupes of a cruel and dishonest woman. I 
thought it due to you, as well as to myself, to make the 
situation clear by saying this. ” 

The dignified attitude assumed by the Italian did not 
commend itself to the straightforward common sense of 
the Englishman, who rejoined : 

“ I really can't see what you are driving at. I daresay 
you may have been duped ; but it seems to me that, if 
you have, that is your own look-out. I haven't been 
duped in any way that I know of, and I don’t particularly 
care whether my wife wished you to pull my nose or 
not.” 

‘"You don't care ! You don't care that she loves neither 
you nor me, but that she would like to spite one of us 
and that she was not ashamed to make an unworthy use 
of the devotion of the other ! ” 

“ Not the least bit in the world. To be frank with you, 

I doubt whether, your devotion to her was of such a worthy 
description that she was bound to be over nice in her 
methods of turning it to account ; and as for her designs 
upon my nose, I can forgive her for them, since they 
didn’t come off. The long and the short of the whole 
business appears to be that you jumped to unwarrantable 
conclusions. So much the worse for you ! And, in a 
certain sense, so much the better for me ! ” 

The Marchese ground his teeth and muttered something 
between them which Douglas's ignorance of Italian 
prevented him from understanding to be a trenchant 
condemnation of the English nation at large. He said 
aloud : 

“Mr. Colborne, I perceive that it would be useless for 
me to trespass further on your time. I was aware that 
you had no love for your wife ; I supposed — though doubt- 
less I was -mistaken — that you had some love for your 
honor. Basta ! — I can say no more, except to repeat that, 
if you should consider any reparation on my part owing 
to you, I am entirely at your orders.” 

“Thank you very much,” answered Douglas, laugh- 
ing ; “ but I have no anxiety to fight you, and there seems 
to be even less necessity for a duel between us now than 
there was when you were last kind enough to make me 
the same offer.” 

The Marchese raised his shoulders and his eyebrows, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


295 


drew his heels together, bowed and departed. It is not 
very easy to say why Mr. Colborne’s supercilious in- 
difference should have had the effect of enraging him, for 
he had not really expected anything else ; but there is 
always, of course, a shade of distinction between antici- 
pation and actual experience. For the Test, if he had not 
as yet accomplished much, he had at least done what it 
had seemed to him practicable to do ; and he suspected 
that the Englishman, notwithstanding all that outward 
show of unconcern, must have been inwardly wounded, 
while it could no longer be possible for him to cherish any 
illusions as to his wife’s true character. Leonforte was 
as certain as he was of his own existence that he hated 
and despised the Countess Radna ; yet he was not sorry 
to be furnished with a plausible excuse for hating and de- 
spising Mr. Colborne into the bargain. 

He was not far wrong in his surmise that Douglas had 
been wounded by a disclosure which could scarcely be 
agreeable to the most phlegmatic of husbands. A very 
phlegmatic and philosophic person might, no doubt, have 
drawn from it inferences flattering to his personal vanity, 
and Douglas had been pleased to hint that this was just 
what he had done ; but in reality he deceived himself 
with no such dubious consolation. Being himself abso- 
lutely honest and straightforward, he neither liked nor 
made allowance Tor the crooked ways of women. Even 
if he had possessed the love of one who manifested her 
affection by egging on a stranger to insult him publicly, 
he would not have thought it worth having ; but the mere 
fact of her having harbored that intention appeared to him 
to be convincing proof that he did not possess it. Why 
could she not say so and have done with it ? Why could 
she not be satisfied with her liberty, which he had made 
no attempt to curtail ? What injury had he ever done her 
that she must needs hatch spiteful and underhand plots 
against him ? Were all women like that? Most of them, 
perhaps, were ; yet he thought he knew of one, at least, 
who was an exception to the general rule ; and, having a 
little spare time at his disposal that afternoon, he decided 
to employ it in calling upon Peggy Rowley. He said to 
himself that it would refresh him to converse with a mem- 
ber of the opposite sex who was as honorable, as plain- 
spoken and .almost as comprehensible as an average 
gentleman, 


296 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


But, as luck would have it, he had chosen his moment 
ill, and he found his influential friend, for once, in a very 
bad temper. What he had thought of as possibly desirable 
after their last conversation had come to pass ; that very 
morning Miss Spofforth had felt it her duty to report sun- 
dry remarks which had been made to her by various ladies 
who took a kindly interest in Miss Rowley, and to caution 
the latter that people who take upon themselves to create 
Under-Secretaries of State must not be surprised if their 
names are coupled with those of their proteges. This had 
vexed Peggy all the more because it was so perfectly true 
and so perfectly reasonable. She enjoyed a freedom of 
conduct which circumstances refuse to ninety-nine out of 
a hundred young women ; but there are limits which it is 
foolish to transgress, just as there are friendly relations 
which it is impossible to explain with any hope of being 
believed ; so that it had to be admitted that, if Lady 
Winkfield chose to insinuate nasty things about her, Lady 
Winkfield had solid ground under her feet. The only sen- 
sible course to pursue was, in the first place, to snub Miss 
Spofforth severely (which was done without delay), and, 
in the second, to see rather less of Douglas Colborne in 
the future than she had done in the past. 

The necessity which she recognized made her, however, 
very cross, and when Douglas was shown into her drawing- 
room, she greeted him with the not over civil exclamation 
of : 

“How extraordinary of you to turn up at this hour of 
the day ! I thought you never had time for paying visits. 
I'm just off to Hurlingham ; but I can give you twenty 
minutes if you have come about anything in particular.” 

He replied that he had only come for the pleasure of 
having a chat with her; but that he would sacrifice that 
pleasure and take himself off at once, if he wasn’t wanted. 
Nevertheless, he remained where he was, and it did not 
take him very long to divulge the true object of his visit, 
which was to tell her about the revelation made to him 
by the Marchese di Leonforte and to ascertain what she 
thought of it. 

Her opinion was soon stated : it was neither sympathetic 
nor couched in polite language. “You and your wife 
are a pair of fools,” said she. “ I have no patience with 
either of you. Between you, you seem to be doing your 
very utmost to stir up a scandal out of nothing at all, and 


THE COUNTESS RAJDNA. 


2 97 

I daresay you will succeed in the long run, if you go on 
like this. Considering that you both ardently desire to 
kiss and make friends, one would have thought that your 
simplest plan would have been to do so, without calling 
in the assistance of bloodthirsty foreigners. But I suppose 
you know your own business best.” 

“I don’t know whether my wife and I are a couple of 
fools or not, ” returned Douglas, with a touch of acerbity ; 
“but I do know that there isn’t the faintest prospect of 
our kissing and making friends. This man Leonforte 
seems to have been taken in just as I was, and there is no 
question of blood-thirsty foreigners or their assistance. 
I thought that perhaps your feminine wit might enable you 
to hit upon my wife’s motive for despatching him here ; 
but apparently you can only suggest the obvious and 
vulgar one, in which I don’t happen to believe. I suppose 
you must have changed your mind since you impressed 
upon me that my best plan was to leave my wife severely 
alone.” 

“ That was some little time ago, wasn’t it ? One can’t 
leave people alone forever — that is, unless one wants to 
leave them alone forever. But I don’t pretend to be an 
authority upon the subject of love, with all its complica- 
tions and ramifications ; my accomplishments, when I 
come to reckon them up, are remarkably few in number. 
I have some knowledge of politics, and a little of garden- 
ing, and very little indeed of the game of polo, which I 
am just going to look on at. Miss Spofforth tells me — 
and I should think most likely she is right — that I am al- 
together deficient as regards savoir vivre and savoir faire. 
For goodness’ sake, don’t consult me about your matri- 
monial difficulties ! — my advice wouldn’t be worth listening 
to. If you follow your nose, you will end by reaching 
some destination ; and one is about as good as another. 
Fifty years hence none of the things that agitate us now 
will signify the least little bit. ” 

It is a poor sort of friend who can find nothing better 
than such cold comfort as that to offer to a perplexed 
fellow-creature ; and Douglas, after taking his leave, said 
to himself that he had been too hasty in pronouncing Miss 
Rowley superior to the rest of her sex. He was hurt and 
piqued ; he resolved that for the future he would keep his 
own affairs to himself; but it never entered his head to 
imagine that poor Peggy, on her side, might be more 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


298 

deserving of pity than of resentment. If such an idea had 
entered into his head, he would not have been the simple, 
honest gentleman that he was. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

AT HURLINGHAM. 

Ruminating upon various possible contingencies and 
combinations, Leonforte went on his way from Clarges 
Street towards the hotel at which he was sojourning. His 
way led him down St. James’s Street, and, just as he was 
turning out of that thoroughfare into Pall Mall, he was 
accosted by a smartly-dressed young gentleman, with a 
flower in his button-hole, who exclaimed : 

“ Hullo ! How are you ? Somebody told me you had 
left London.” 

The Marchese raised his hat ceremoniously ; he was 
not yet habituated to our insular mode of saluting male 
acquaintances. “Enchanted to meet you again, Mr. 
Innes,” said he, in his deep, solemn voice. “ Yes ; I have 
been across to Paris ; but I have returned, as you see. ” 

“ Dear me ! you haven’t been long about it. You saw 
the- Countess, of course ; did you give her my message ? 
Look here ; if you aren’t doing anything particular, will 
you come into my club and have. some lunch ? I’m sure 
you must have lots of interesting things to tell me, if you 
will. I’m awfully interested in the Countess and in my 
cousin, you know.” 

After a bare second or two of hesitation, Leonforte 
decided to accept the young man’s proffered hospitality. 
He was at least as much interested in the persons named 
as Frank Innes could be, and he did not mean to neglect 
any chance of gaining fresh information about either of 
them. Consequently, he said what he deemed to be fit- 
ting and courteous, and a few minutes later he was eatino- 
salmon mayonnaise and drinking claret-cup in the strangers’ 
room of Mr. Innes’s club, while that gentleman was ply- 
ing him with questions of which he could not but admire 
the innocent indiscretion. 

He, for his part, was wary and discreet ; he thought it 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


299 


undesirable to mention what did not seem to be suspected ; 
he was willing to accept provisionally' the character 
ascribed to him of a disinterested friend of the Countess 
Radna’s ; he allowed it to be supposed that he had under- 
taken that hurried journey to Paris as a peacemaker, and 
he professed to regret sincerely that he had not found 
himself able to do anything towards healing a rupture 
which he feared was more serious and likely to prove 
more permanent than Mr. Innes imagined. 

“Oh, I expect it will all come right in the long run,” 
said Frank, cheerfully ; “ things generally do end by com- 
ing all right, unless there’s some horrid old woman or 
other who is bent upon setting them wrong. And there’s 
no old woman in this case, you see.” 

He sighed, thinking of his own, in which the malignant 
influence of a horrid old woman was only too prominent 
a feature. Presently he began to talk about his own case ; 
for he rather liked this grave Italian, whose eyes had a 
kindly expression, and he was always ready to confide 
his secrets to anybody who would listen to them. Per- 
haps, too, the claret-cup, of which he had partaken much 
more freely than his abstemious guest had done, may 
have helped to render him additionally communicative. 

Leonforte, when he had been informed at considerable 
length of the nature of Frank’s aspirations and of the well- 
nigh insuperable difficulties which that sanguine youth did 
not despair of conquering, opined that Lady Burcote, old 
and horrid though she might be, could scarcely be blamed 
for declining to bestow her daughter upon a would-be 
professional singer. He said : 

“ Many strange things are done in England ; but in no 
country in the world has it ever been permissible for a 
lady of rank to marry an actor. Why do you not leave it 
to be a question of money alone ? Poverty, I agree, is 
an obstacle, and a grave one ; still it is not — pardon me 
the word — it is not derogation.” 

“I assure you,” answered Frank, laughing, “that we 
consider poverty next door to disgrace, and we have quite 
given up the idea that there is anything disgraceful in 
marrying actors or actresses. Lady Burcote wouldn’t 
mind my playing a barrel-organ in the streets if I could 
show her that I was making ten thousand a year by it.” 

The Marchese ventured to pxpress polite incredulity. 
He could not believe that the description given by Mr. 


JOO 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Inne^of the British aristocracy was accurate, nor could he 
imagine that any gentleman, after having thrown up an 
honorable profession in order to follow such a trade as 
that of singing in public, would be admitted into a noble 
family, even though his self-abasement should bring him 
in so large an income as ten thousand a year. 

“And I presume/’ he added, “that you would have to 
sing a very long time and be very successful before you 
could gain half or a quarter as much.” 

“Ah ! that's just where it is ! ” assented Frank ; “ that’s 
just the trouble. You’re mistaken in thinking that the 
Burcotes have any old-fash.oned prejudices, though. Dou- 
glas agrees with you ; but then he’s a bit old-fashioned 
himselb Miss Rowley, who is more up to date, knows 
better. By the way, did 1 introduce you to Miss Row- 
lev ? ” 

Leonforte pricked up his ears. He had not yet been 
presented to Miss Rowley, and, for reasons which he did 
not deem it necessary to specify, he was much more eager 
to be presented to her than to listen any longer to a com- 
monplace narrative of thwarted affections. 

“You omitted to confer a great privilege and a great 
pleasure upon me,” he replied. “If you contemplated - 
honoring me so far, perhaps I may hope that you will 
repair the omission at some future date. I have heard a 
great deal about Miss Rowley, and I should be proud to 
make her acquaintance.” 

“Oh, you have heard of Miss Peggy, then?” Frank 
rejoined. “Well, I don’t wonder at that, because every- 
body has heard of her. She’s tremendously clever, and 
she’s a real good sort into the bargain, in spite of her 
rough tongue. Would you care to drive out to Hurling- 
ham with me presently? I know she’ll be there, and 
Hurlingham is one of our national institutions which you 
ought to see before you publish your impressions of Eng- 
land and the English.” 

The Marchese, who took every word that was said to 
him quite seriously and literally, disclaimed any intention 
of adding another volume to the many which have been 
written upon the manners and customs of this island by 
intelligent foreigners ; but he said he should like very 
much to see Hurlingham and Miss Rowley, and Frank 
remarked that, in that case, it was about time to call a 
hansom. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. _ 301 

A great many people had adopted a similar‘course and 
had betaken themselves to the same destination that 
afternoon ; for, by some strange chance, the weather was 
fine and warm, although summer was at its height. At 
the end of a drive during which conversation had lan- 
guished a little, the unsuspecting Frank and the astute 
individual towards whom he quaintly imagined that he was 
acting the part of a sort of juvenile mentor found quite a 
crowd of fashionable persons looking on at polo in the 
intervals of social intercourse, and the former generously 
refused to let his attention be diverted from his immedi- 
ate purpose by the first spectacle that met his eyes — which 
was the unpleasing one of Lord Galashiels, engaged in 
holding a sunshade over the head of Lady Florence Carey. 
He had not come to Hurlingham in order to see Lady 
Florence, still less jvith any hope of being permitted to 
speak to her ; he was a mere spectator and his anxiety to 
redeem as speedily as possible the promise that he had 
made to introduce his companion to Miss Rowley was 
none the less legitimate because spectators can always 
fulfil their functions more satisfactorily when they are not 
hampered by companions. 

“ There she is ! ” he exclaimed, as soon as his eager 
scrutiny of the throng had been rewarded by the dis- 
covery of the lady for whom he was looking — “that tall 
woman in the striped gown. Come along ; shell be 
delighted to meet you. She and Douglas Colborne are as 
thick as thieves, and she understands him a good bit bet- 
ter than I do, I expect. You and she ought to put your 
heads together and see whether something can’t be done. 
She’ll represent Douglas and you’ll represent the Count- 
ess, don’t you know. And then you can thrash the whole 
question out between you.” 

Leonforte, without moving a muscle, answered that 
that was a very promising suggestion, and while he was 
being led up to the lady in the striped gown, he said to 
himself that he might do worse than begin by assuring 
her of the high esteem in which he held the newly- 
appointed member of the British Ministry. 

But Peggy, who, as has been related, had heard all 
about him, and who, as has likewise been related, was 
not in the best of tempers, cut short his introductory 
observations somewhat brusquely. 

“Oh, yes; Mr. Colborne is a friend of mine,” v she 


3° 2 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


replied ; “but I am surprised to hea'r that he is a friend of 
yours. I suppose I must have been misinformed ; for I 
was under the impression that you thirsted for his blood. ” 

This was momentarily embarrassing-, but only momen- 
tarily so. It was evident that Miss Rowley had already 
been taken into Mr. Colborne’s confidence ; and that fact 
alone sufficed to throw a vivid light upon their mutual 
relations. It was also of a nature to throw some light 
upon the dark path of a tentative schemer. Leonforte 
smiled and remarked : 

“I perceive that you have been well informed. It is 
true that, a short time ago, I was Mr. Colborne’s enemy ; 
but I am his enemy no longer. Is it permitted to me to 
inquire whether that information has been conveyed to 
you as well ? ” 

Peggy took stock of her questioner, from head to heel, 
in a leisurely fashion before she made up her mind that it 
would be beneath her to prevaricate. Then she answered : 

“ Mr. Colborne called upon me just now and mentioned 
that you had been with him. As far as I could understand 
him, you didn’t seek him out upon a precisely friendly 
errand; but possibly I may have mistaken him, or he may 
have mistaken you. Either way, it doesn’t much matter 
to me, and I don’t see why it should matter to you. As a 
general rule, squabbles between husbands and wives are 
best left alone by outsiders, don’t you think so ? ” 

“ No doubt that is so ; but I can hardly count myself as 
what you call an outsider. For a time the Countess Radna 
honored me with her friendship ; for a time I thought that 
it was an honor ; I believed in her friendship, and I be- 
lieved besides that she was a cruelly ill-used lady. I know 
now, because she herself has told me so, that she simply 
took advantage of my credulity. She only hoped that I 
should pick a quarrel with her husband whom she hates ; 
and, as it was impossible for me to quarrel with a man 
who, according to your rules, was justified in refusing to 
meet me, I have been dismissed and insulted by her. After 
this personal explanation, which I apologize for intruding 
upon your notice, you will understand why I cannot 
remain an outsider as regards the differences between Mr. 
Colborne and his wife.” 

“Yet,” observed Peggy, who, during the Marchese’s 
speech, had been scrutinizing the polo-players through her 
field-glasses, “you seem to have been put rather emphati- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


303 


cally outside. I haven’t been quite so ruthlessly snubbed 
as you have been ; still I am not less outside than you are, 
and I propose to stay where I am. Why shouldn't I ? 
The outer air isn’t so very .cold, after all. ” 

“To some people,” returned Leonforte, who flattered 
himself that he had taken his neighbor’s measure, “heat 
is as unendurable as cold, and no temperature is endurable - 
when it is forced upon them. I am one of those people, 
and I think, Miss Rowley, that you are another. I think 
you must love the Countess Radna as little as I do. I do 
not presume to say more.” • 

“May I ask,” inquired Peggy, lowering her glasses and 
surveying the Italian from beneath half-closed eye-lids, 
“what you mean by saying as much? Because you 
appear to mean something or other, and I can’t for the life 
of me guess what it can be. ” 

“I mean,” replied the Marchese, a trifle disconcerted, 
yet resolved not to shrink from timely audacity, “ that the 
treatment which I have received from the Countess on one 
side and from Mr. Colborne on the other has opened my 
eyes. I mean that instead of loving her — yes, I will own 
that I once loved her ! — I now abhor a woman who could 
use me as she has used me ; and I mean that I am ready 
to offer you my alliance against her, if you will accept it.” 

Peggy stared at the man, who was evidently in earnest 
and in whose dark eyes there was a fire which could 
scarcely have been made to illumine them without genuine 
emotion. 

“You are a very unconventional person,” she remarked. 
“ Perhaps I am a very conventional or a very stupid one ; 
for, even after that excited statement, I am still rather in 
the dark as to your intentions. I understand that you are 
in a rage with the Countess Radna ; but why you should 
offer me your alliance against her, or what you expect me 
to do with it, Heaven alone knows ! ” 

“Ah, Miss Rowley, I am sure that you cannot wish me 
to put my thought into more distinct language. Is it not 
enough that all the world is aware of the — shall I say the 
friendship? — which you feel for Mr. Colborne? That is 
not my concern, nor can I tell what my alliance may be 
worth to you. I merely desire to assure you that, such as 
it is, it is at your service.” 

The Marchese was not quite so insane as he may appear 
in thus addressing a lady of untarnished reputation. Pie 


3°4 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


was a poor judge of character ; but he was not devoid of 
that quick instinct which belongs to the Latin races and 
which, having no mature deliberation to balance it, leads 
them into occasional absurd errors, as well as into occa- 
sional brilliant hits. He knew enough to know that hum- 
bug would have no chance of success with Peggy Rowley, 
whereas unhesitating candor might; and, from his point 
of view, he was probably right in playing the bold game. 
Nevertheless, he gained nothing by it, except a rebuke of 
the severity of which he was not entitled to cohnplain. 

“You seem,” observed Miss Rowley, “to be under a 
delusion which I humbly trust that all the world doesn't 
share. All the world — supposing that it had nothing more 
amusing or interesting to exercise its ingenuity upon — - 
might easily realize your position and why you have so 
suddenly turned your coat ; but I haven’t the slightest mo- 
tive for turning mine, and if I wanted to hurt your form- 
er friend and your present foe, I shouldn’t look about for 
an ally. One would rather not be rude ; still one isn’t called 
upon to submit to gratuitous impertinence ; so I think, with 
your permission, our acquaintance shall end here. We 
needn't make a fuss about it ; only when we meet in future 
we won’t speak, if you please.” 

There was nothing for Leonforte to do but to take off 
his hat and retire. He did so with a feeling of bitter 
resentment in his heart against Miss Rowley which she 
had scarcely earned. He could not but acknowledge that 
she had a perfect right to dismiss him contemptuously ; 
yet he was equally unable to allow her credit for the ex- 
alted sentiments to which she appeared to lay claim. He 
blamed his own clumsiness ; but that did not prevent him 
from adding her name to the increasing list of those towards 
whom he harbored a grudge and with whom it behoved 
him, sooner or later, to be even. 

He might have felt in some degree comforted, had it 
been in his power- to pierce through the shield of Peggy’s 
assumed composure and to discover that their brief col- 
loquy had been fully as humiliating and as infuriating 
to her as it had been to him. Peggy reasoned that the 
man would never have dared to approach her with such 
hints unless he had had some solid ground to go upon ; 
she was less at her ease as to the verdict of “ all the world ” 
than she had affected to be ; she realized that she had 
been stupid and imprudent ; and when Frank Innes strolled 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


305 


up, with a woebegone face and a dismal account of how 
he had failed to obtain the faintest sign of recognition from 
Lady Florence' Carey, she turned upon him and snapped at 
him viciously. 

“I wish to goodness,” she exclaimed, “you would 
devote your time to your business of practicing scales, 
instead of coming here to worry people who have deserved 
better treatment at your hands ! I can’t make Florence 
Carey speak to you, if she doesn’t want to speak to you. 
And please don’t introduce any more foreign adventurers 
to me : I don’t like the breed.” 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

INCORRUPTIBLE PETER. 

To be at enmity with several individuals who are, or ought 
to be, at enmity with one another, to have been spurned 
by each and all of them, and to discern no existing means 
of inflicting annoyance upon any of them is not a very satis- 
factory state of affairs for a vindictive person to face. But 
Leonforte was patient as well as vindictive ; he argued that 
something must needs happen before long, and he resigned 
himself to provisional inactivity, to remaining on the spot, 
and to awaiting the course of events. It was simple and 
not altogether unpleasant to remain upon the spot. He 
would even have enjoyed himself, if his unsatisfied ven- 
geance, his smouldering wrath and his wounded pride had 
not kept him in a constant condition of mental disease ; 
for the society of the British capital showed him much kind- 
ness and hospitality. He profited by the introductions 
which he had obtained from the Countess Radna ; he 
renewed friendly relations with Lord and Lady Burcote ; 
his high respectability was vouched for at the Italian Em- 
bassy, and if all the entertainments to which he was bidden 
did not entertain him, they at least rendered him the serv- 
ice of leaving him with no idle time upon his hands. 

Every now and then he encountered Miss Rowley, who 
stared over his head ; once or twice he exchanged a pass- 
ing salute with the Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


306 

and he frequently met and conversed with Frank Innes, 
who continued to be communicative. But he did not, as 
the days and weeks went on, learn very much more about 
these people than he already knew. There had been, it 
appeared, a certain amount of gossip respecting Mr. Cot- 
borne and Miss Rowley ; only it had languished for want 
of fuel. Mr. Colborne was not often seen at social gather- 
ings, and Peggy was perhaps too popular to be made the 
subject of an organized attack. 

The truth was that a decided coolness had come over the 
intimacy of two people who ought to have known much 
better than to listen to any voices save those of their re- 
spective consciences. To the collective voice of her own 
sex, which seemed to have pronounced her Imprudent, it 
was, no doubt, advisable that Peggy should pay some heed ; 
but there could not be any necessity for her to go out of 
her way to treat an old and unoffending friend with marked 
incivility, and the old and unoffending friend did not like 
it. Feminine voices penetrated also to his ears, insinuat- 
ing that Miss Rowley was angry with him because she 
was disappointed in him. Some of the insinuated reasons 
for her disappointment he did not choose to understand ; 
but others sounded plausible. It could not be denied that 
she was ambitious and inclined to be arbitrary ; more than 
once she had attempted to shape a political course for him ; 
there was nothing so very extravagant in the suggestion 
that she had aimed at securing a personal representative 
in the Administration and had been disgusted to find that 
all her exertions towards the attainment of that end had 
been thrown away. If that was the case, she must be left 
to recover herself and to reach a more reasonable frame 
of mind at her leisure : he really could not gratify her by 
asking her advice as to the conduct of public affairs. Thus 
it came to pass that a couple of human beings who, 
between them, could boast of considerably more com- 
mon sense than is allotted to any ordinary half-dozen of 
our species allowed themselves to be estranged in deference 
to the cackle of a flock of geese. 

One of them sought and found consolation in work ; 
the other having no special work assigned to her by Prov- 
idence, could not be happy unless she was befriending 
somebody ; .and, as it was no longer possible for her to 
befriend Douglas Colborne, she not unnaturally turned 
her attention to Frank Innes. She could not, to be sure. 


THE COUNTESS R A DATA. 


307 


encourage that love-lorn youth in his absurd aspirations ; 
it was her duty to discourage him, and she told him so ; 
but at the same time she did not see that duty compelled 
her to refuse him her sympathy. He had done nothing 
wrong ; he was the victim of circumstances and of an 
artificial state of society ; if it comforted' him to call upon 
her from time to time and pour forth the tale of his alter- 
nate hopes and misgivings, the least that she could do 
was to concede that small comfort to a distressed fellow- 
creature. 

Towards the end of the season, however, it occurred to 
her that she might permissibly do a little more than that 
for him. Frank was now a free man, inasmuch as he had 
resigned his Government clerkship ; he was studying the 
art of vocal interpretation under competent instructors, 
and he talked vaguely of visiting Germany or Italy before 
making his formal debut ; but his plans were as yet quite 
unsettled, and it did not seem improbable that he might 
care to spend a week or ten days at Swinford Manor after 
everybody should have left London. Upon the eve of her 
own departure, therefore, Peggy gave him an invitation 
which was instantly and gratefully accepted. He did not 
know, or if he did know, he had forgotten, that Burcote 
Hall was situated at a distance of barely eight miles from 
Swinford Manor ; much less could he, under his present 
sentence of banishment, be aware that the noble owner of 
that demesne (which had been let for several years past) 
proposed to spend the summer months there, having 
failed to find a fresh tenant. Frank jumped at Miss Row- 
ley’s proffered hospitality because he had a secret hope 
that her kindness of heart might prompt her to show a 
similar favor to Lady Florence, but Peggy, who harbored 
no such nefarious design, thought it only fair to warn him 
that he must expect to be bored. 

“There will be nothing for you to do,” she said, “ and 
nobody for you to see, except a few tedious fellow-guests. 
Still it will be open to you to bolt as soon as you have 
had enough of us ; the Great Western Railroad provides 
frequent fast trains. ” 

Inwardly she reflected : “It won’t be any fault of mine 
if he chances to meet the girl ; I don’t keep a prison or a 
school, and I can’t prevent my friends from roaming about 
the country when they are staying with me. Not that 
she can possibly marry him ; only an interview might 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3°8 

cheer him up for the time being, and might embolden her 
to refuse her ennobled manufacturer once more. One 
would be justified in doing anything one could towards 
rendering her that real service.” 

That a superior woman like Peggy Rowley should have 
allowed herself to indulge in casuistry of that description 
is, of course, only one more unneeded instance of the 
perverse workings of the female mind ; but it must be said 
for her that she honestly had not anticipated meeting the 
Burcotes at a flower-show in Lord Winkfield's grounds to 
which Frank was dragged, somewhat against his will, on 
the afternoon following that of his arrival under her roof. 
There they were, nevertheless ; and Lord Galashiels was 
with them ; and, as the most watchful of mothers can 
hardly manage to exercise constant supervision in a throng 
of two or three hundred people, it was eventually found 
practicable by an adroit young man to approach a lady 
who had not bowed to him, but who, he felt quite sure, 
was aware of his proximity. Lady Florence had escaped 
into one of the orchid-houses and was bending, with an 
interest slightly too intense to be altogether genuine, 
over a superb odontoglossum , when Frank’s voice whispered 
close to her ear : 

“Won’t you speak to me ? ” 

She answered in a rapid undertone and without turning 
round, “ I shall get into the most awful row that ever was 
if I do. You had better go away before mamma comes 
and catches sight of you ; I don’t think she has seen you 
yet. What in the world has brought you here ? ” 

“ Miss Rowley’s wagonette. I’m on a visit to her ; but 
I little imagined that such a piece of luck as this was in store 
for me. I wonder whether she did ! Anyhow, nothing will 
induce me to stir from this spot, unless you’ll come too. 
Do come ! — if it’s only for five minutes. There are lots of 
shrubberies and places which your mother won’t think of 
searching. ” 

Lady Florence glanced over her shoulder and shook her 
head. ‘ ‘ I couldn’t do it ! ” she murmured ; “it would be 
as much as my life was worth ! I have been forbidden to 
speak to you or take any notice of you. Did you think I 
had cut you all this time of my own accord ? ” 

“ I didn’t know ; I hoped you hadn’t. But it’s awfully 
hard work to keep up one’s faith when one hasn’t, after 
all, any absolute promise to fall back upon. You did 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 309 

promise me, though, that you wouldn’t be bullied into 
marrying Galashiels, whatever might happen.” 

“Oh, no; I’m sure I never made such a promise as 
that,” returned the girl hurriedly ; “you must have for- 
gotten what I said. You talk about its being hard to 
keep faith ; but you don’t know how much harder it is for 
me than it can possibly be for you. I wish I could tell 
you— but I can't ; because mamma will have noticed by 
this time that I have given her the slip, even if she hasn’t 
noticed that you are here.” 

Lady Burcote, indeed, gave evidence of her vigilance 
by entering the hothouse at that moment. She was 
arrayed in a costume quite as juvenile as, and far more 
costly than, that which Lady Florence wore; she was 
attended by one of those middle-aged young men who 
had admired her in years gone by and whose gallantries 
were still acceptable to her. If she saw Fr&nk Innes, she 
did not appear to do so, and she passed her arm through 
her daughter’s after a sprightly and companionable fashion 
which she had often found to be effective in its influence 
upon bystanders. Lady Burcote is not and never- has 
been respected ; but she is not, never has been and never 
will be, a contemptible antagonist. The lives of an ap- 
preciable section of our fellow-mortals are made or marred 
in accordance with the goodwill and pleasure of Lady 
Burcote and her congeners. 

Frank, at ail events, could do nothing to prevent this 
unscrupulous lady from drawing her daughter away from 
him, nor could he, during the remainder of the afternoon, 
obtain a second opportunity of approaching Lady Flor- 
ence. Yet it was simply essential and indispensable that 
he should ascertain what she had been going to say to him 
when that old harridan of a mother of hers had interrupted 
her, because there could be no question as to the fact that 
she had been going to say something interesting and 
important. He dogged her footsteps ; but there was not 
much use in doing that, since her mother and Galashiels 
clung to her like a couple of leeches ; she ignored him 
persistently from first to last; and the only thing that 
gave him a spice of comfort was that he saw her talk- 
ing for nearly ten minutes to Miss Rowley’s gardener, 
who was present in a professional capacity. She could 
not have been talking to the man about flowers all that 
time ; so the chances were that she had some previous 


3 IQ 


THE COUNTESS RADNA .. 


acquaintance with him. Peter Chervil did not look like a 
particularly valuable link ; still he might prove to be a 
sort of a link, and it might prove worth while to cultivate 
him. Straws will not save a drowning man ; yet drown- 
ing men are said to clutch at them, and Frank, metaphori- 
cally speaking, determined to clutch Peter Chervil by the 
hair. 

It was in pursuance of this resolution that he rose, next 
day, long before the breakfast hour and strolled across 
the wide expanse of lawn which encompasses Swinford 
Manor. Not a word had been said by his hostess, in the 
meantime, concerning an encounter of which it might be 
assumed that she was not ignorant ; but certain remarks 
of a disquieting nature had been made, during dinner 
on the foregoing evening, by irresponsible and innocent 
persons. It appeared to be taken for granted that Lady 
Burcote proposed to marry her daughter to Lord Gala- 
shiels, and it likewise appeared to be an understood thing 
that when Lady Burcote proposed, no power, human or 
divine, could prevent her from disposing. Her ladyship 
had-not been gently handled ; her worldliness and cruelty 
had been duly condemned, while her daughter's reluc- 
tance to be thus summarily settled in life had been pro- 
nounced notorious ; but it had been agreed that the 
matron would triumph over the maid, and Peggy’s voice 
had not been raised in dissent. 

All this gave Frank food for gloomy reflection and 
debarred him from appreciating the dewy freshness of 
early morn. Two men were hard at work with a mowing- 
machine and a booted pony ; further on he came upon 
one who was engaged in cutting roses for the house, and 
looked as sad over it as gardeners always do over that 
painful, necessary operation ; but it was not until he had 
perambulated three conservatories that he ran to earth the 
individual of whom he was in search. Peter glanced up, 
touched his hat and said : 

“Fine mornin’, sir.” 

“Very,” answered Frank. “ Didn’t I see you at the 
flower-show yesterday afternoon ? ” 

“You might ha’ done, sir. I were there; though I 
didn’t see nothin’ as I couldn’t ha’ beat out o’ my own 
houses. Fact is, sir, I didn’t go so much for to see any 
blooms as they could show me as because I heard tell as. 
Lady Florence was to be there.” 


THE COUNTESS RADA" A. ?n 

m 

“Oh, you know Lady Florence then ?” said Frank, 
pricking up his ears. 

“ Known her since she worn’t scarcely so ’igh as your 
walkin’-stick, sir. My old aunt Eliza, as is bedridden 
now up at the alms-houses at Stoke Morton, she was 
nurse in the family, and terrible anxious she is for to see 
Lady Florence once more afore her time comes. Which 
it can’t be far distant now, sir. So I thought as I'd try to 
get a word with her ladyship, who spoke very kind to me, 
and said she’d make it a" point to drive over to Stoke 
Morton in her pony-shay some mornin’. Leastways, if 
they’d let her go ; for she’s kep’ uncommon tight, as you 
know, sir. And as for that there Lord Gaily — some- 
thin’ or other, soon as ever I see him I says, ‘ Don’t tell 
me he’s a lord,’ I says; ‘lords is gentlemen,’ I says. 

‘ Radical I am, ’ says I, ‘ and Radical I shall vote, with- 
out good cause is shown me to the contrary ; but like 
should mate with like, and when it comes to makin’ lords 
out of tradesmen and marryin’ of ’em to the best blood in 
the land — why,’ I says, ‘ ’tis enough to make a man 
turn Tory.’ Now I ain’t onreasonable, nor yet I don’t 
say but what ’tis fittin’ as her ladyship should look for a 
rich ’usband ; on’y I can’t hardly credit as her father and 
mother’d force her to take up with a feller like that, lord 
or no lord. I’d a deal sooner see her married to a 
gentleman sim’lar to yourself, sir, if you’ll excuse the lib- 
erty of my mentionin’ it. ‘For Mr. Innes,’ I says, ‘he 
is a gentleman ; though maybe he’s pore — like a many 
gentlemen is nowadays.’” 

Anglo-Indians affirm that political intelligence is dis- 
seminated through the native bazaars with a rapidity 
which sometimes outstrips the telegraph-wires and for 
which it is impossible to account. Yet marvels of a 
kindred nature are perpetually occurring in our own 
country. One cannot say for certain how servants obtain 
their accurate social information, though one may have 
suspicions ; but there seems to be no doubt that they are 
quite as well posted up as we are, and it was evident 
that Peter Chervil knew as much about Lady Florence 
Carey as Mr. Innes could tell him. The latter was far 
from being offended with Miss Rowley’s gardener on that 
account ; on the contrary, he inwardly showered bless- 
ings upon the man’s head, and said aloud : 

“Mr. Chervil, you are a very sensible man, and I can 


3 12 


THE COUNTESS RADNA^ 

see that your heart is in the right place, notwithstanding 
the dreadful mistake that you make in voting Radical. 
But perhaps you won't vote Radical next time — when 
you have had. leisure to think things over, you know. 
Meanwhile, I am sure you would willingly do anything 
in your power to save Lady Florence from Lord Gala- 
shiels, who, as you truly say, is not in the least a gentle- 
man, in spite of his being a lord. And you might do 
something — perhaps it wouldn't be much, still it would 
be something — if you could manage to convey a note to 
her from me. The truth is that I have a few rather im- 
portant things to say to her, and I can't possibly get 
them said without an undisturbed interview of a quarter 
of an hour or thereabouts. I could easily slip over to 
Stoke Morton, you see, if I Only knew on what morning 
she was likely to visit her old nurse ; and I should think 
you might find out that for me ; and — er ■” 

Here Frank significantly thrust his finger and thumb 
into his waistcoat pocket — which gesture showed an im- 
perfect discrimination of character on his part. 

Peter, whose weatherbeaten features had relaxed into 
a grim smile, drew back a step and frowned when he 
noticed it. 

“ None o’ that, if_yoz/ please, sir ! ” said he, with dignity. 
“What I does, I does for reasons o’ my own, not for pay.. 
Carryin’ of notes unbeknown is a ticklish job, _ and if I 
was to stoop to such courses, ’t wouldn’t be for the sake 
of a gentleman as thought he could buy me. ” 

Ample apologies had to be offered and ample explana- 
tions entered upon before Frank finally prevailed upon 
this incorruptible personage to deliver the few hastily- 
pencilled lines which he scribbled upon a leaf of his note- 
book while he was talking ; but Peter ended by under- 
taking a commission with which he was secretly rejoiced 
to be charged. 

“ Mind you, sir,” said the old man sternly, as he took 
the folded slip of paper handed to him, “I don’t know 
what this ’ere bit o’ writin’ may be, nor I don't want 
to know, nor I don’t pay no heed whatsomever to all 
you’ve been tellin’ of me. I ain’t one to meddle with the 
concerns o’ my betters, nor never was. But Lord Gally- 
what’s-his-name, I don’t count him no better o’ mine — • 
barrin’ the money as his father made by cheatin’ of his 
customers, And that’s where ’tis, do you see, sir, ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3 J 3 


The motive assigned might have been more lucidly put ; 
but, under the circumstances, Frank felt able to dispense 
with lucidity, and he returned to the house thanking his 
lucky stars. He certainly had not expected, when he had 
sought out Mr. Peter Chervil, to meet with so willing and 
so capable a plenipotentiary. 

Nor, for the matter of that, did he expect to’ receive so 
prompt a reply to his missive as that which was delivered 
to him the same evening. It was with no such hope — or, 
at all events, with only the faintest shadow of a shade of 
it — that he strolled out towards the conservatories before 
dinner, after a long, weary day, during which he had 
striven, much against the grain, to make himself agreeable 
to his fellow-guests. But there, sure enough, was Mr. 
Chervil ; and not a muscle of Mr. Chervil’s face rekrxed as 
he produced a note from his pocket. “Her ladyship’s 
orders as I was to give this to you, sir,” said Peter, and 
immediately walked away. 

Now, these were the words inscribed, in a somewhat 
unformed handwriting, upon the correspondence-card 
which Frank’s eager eyes scrutinized a dozen times, 
although one perusal might well have sufficed to render 
its purport intelligible : 

“ I shall go and see old Eliza on Wednesday morning 
between eleven and twelve o’clock, and if you were in the 
churchyard afterwards, we might meet for a few minutes. 
Only please squat down behind a tombstone, because the 
little imp of a groom whom I shall have with me is as 
sharp as a needle. It is all very wrong and rather danger- 
ous ; but for once I don’t mind chancing it. Peter is 
an old dear; you may give him a kiss from me, if you 
like.” 

Frank did not think that he would like to kiss Peter 
Chervil ; but there was somebody else upon whom he 
was exceedingly anxious to bestow that mark of regard, 
and for whose sake he was more than willing to conceal 
himself for any length of time in a village graveyard. 
He was in such good spirits during dinner and conversed 
with so much brilliancy that Peggy Rowley soon formed 
certain shrewd conjectures which she took very good 
care not to put into words. Only when she wished him 
good-night, she remarked : 

“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself. All the same, 
there’s no real reason why you should enjoy yourself, and 


3 I 4 the countess radna. 

you had better not cherish illusions. Depend upon it, 
my poor friend you have nothing but disappointment to 
look forward to. ” 

But Frank did not see how she could possibly know 
that. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

FRANK TAKES A CONSTITUTIONAL. 

Only a few exceptional persons — and these are for the 
most part women — can really like country-house life 
during the height of the summer. Still the course of this 
world is so providentially ordered that compensations are 
almost always discoverable, and it may be regarded as 
some sort of compensation for the lack of anything to do 
which belongs to the months of July and August that 
hostesses are usually willing to let you do what you 
please at that season of the year, so long as you absent 
yourself from the house between meal times. Frank 
Innes, therefore, was asked no questions and was driven 
to resort to no prevarications before he set forth, on that 
hot, cloudless Wednesday morning, to walk to the village 
of Stoke Morton, which was situated at a distance of 
nearly four miles from Swinford Manor. His way lay 
across level lands and broad fields of wheat aitd barley : 
there was no shade and no breeze ; for choice, he would 
naturally have preferred to be seated either upon or 
behind a fast-trotting horse ; but he had deemed it unwise 
to embarrass himself with a groom, and he plodded along 
cheerfully enough, with the church-spire which marked 
his destination growing more and more distinct every 
minute against the soft blue sky. 

Of course he arrived long before the appointed hour and 
had time to learn by heart the names and ages of all the 
rude forefathers of the hamlet ; but he did not mind 
waiting. He would have waited contentedly all day and 
all night if he could but have felt positive that Lady Flor- 
ence would prove faithful to her tryst ; but what kept him 
in a fever of heat, impatience and anxiety was the thought 
that perhaps, after all, she might have been detained at 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


315 

home against her will. The dead silence of noonday 
added confirmation to his misgivings : surely in that 
universal stillness the wheels of a pony-cart must have 
been heard half a mile away if there had been the sound ' 
of any wheels to hear ! When the husky old clock over 
his head struck half-past twelve, he was a miserable and 
despairing man. It seemed certain that she could not 
have come ; because she was sure to be due at home for 
luncheon, and nobody lunches later than two o’clock, 
while some people lunch half an hour earlier. He had 
decided that he would make his way to the alms-houses 
and ask for old Eliza — old Eliza who, although not the 
rose, had lived so near the rose — when he was made to 
start abruptly to his feet by a smart dig in the back. 
There she was ! She had stolen noiselessly across the 
grass behind him and was smiling at him calmly, the out- 
stretched sunshade with which she had assaulted him in 
her hand. 

“Great success!” she exclaimed, breaking out into a 
peal of laughter. “ I have been watching you for the last 
three minutes, and I thought I would make you jump if I 
could. How you did jump ! Another grain or two of 
powder and you would have been clean out of your skin ! 
Yet one would have thought that you might have expected 
to seb me.” 

This was all very well, and Frank, being as youthful as 
his companion, enjoyed himself for a short space after a 
juvenile fashion ; but when he had made her sit down 
upon a flat tombstone beside him, he pointed out to her 
that the occasion was not one for thoughtless merriment. 

“ It’s serious, you know — most abominably serious,” said 
he. “And I suppose,” he added, with a sigh, “ our time 
is limited, isn’t it ? ” 

Lady Florence glanced at the little watch which she 
wore in a bracelet on her wrist. “Limited to a quarter 
of an hour,” she replied; “there is no stopping Eliza 
when once she begins to talk. Even as it is, I shall have 
to flog the pony, who is as fat as a pig and as lazy as a 
tortoise. ” 

“ Only a quarter of an hour ! ” groaned Frank. “And 
there is such a lot to be said ! ” 

“ Oh, no ; indeed there isn't,” returned Lady Florence, 
the smile fading from her lips ; ‘ ‘ there's nothing to be 
said — nothing that can make any difference. I wanted 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


316 

to see you just once more, that was all. You can’t save 
me, and I can't save myself.” 

“What do you mean?” cried Frank in consternation. 
“Not that you have knocked under to that wicked old 
mother of yours and that you are going to accept 
Galashiels ! Oh, no ; nothing would make me believe 
that of you ! ” 

“Why shouldn’t you believe it ? ” asked the girl. “That 
sort of thing does happen ; it is always happening. It 
doesn't happen in novels and plays, except as an intro- 
duction to a catastrophe ; but in real life it is as common 
as possible, and catastrophes don’t follow. How can it 
be helped ? ” 

“ How can it be helped ! Why, by the least little show 
of obstinacy, I should think. How can it be done with- 
out your consent? Ypu said the other day that you 
hadn't promised me not to marry that cad ; but you did 
promise — or, at all events, I understood you so. And 
you told me that you loved me too. Have you changed 
since then ? ” 

“ My being here doesn’t look as if I had, does it ? You 
can’t understand, and it wouldn’t be any use to try and 
make you understand. If I am not to marry you — and 
of course that is impossible — I don’t think I care much 
whether I marry Lord Galashiels or somebody else. I 
shan’t be allowed to remain single, and it is better to have 
a tooth out at once than to suffer tortures for a year, or 
two years, and then have to go to the dentist’s after all.” 

“You talk as if they could make you marry ; but they 
can’t really make you — you know they can’t ! And as 
for our marriage being impossible, it’s nothing of the sort. 

I am perfectly certain that by the time that you are of 
age I shall be earning a large enough income to marry 
upon ; the only question is whether you care enough for 
me to wait until then. Of course I mustn't and I won't ask 
you to bind yourself ; still, when you come to think of it, 
that is the only question.” 

Frank spoke with a great deal of emotion and with 
some unintentional sharpness. It seemed to him that a 
love which could not hold out against the futile menaces 
of a painted old shrew was hardly worthy of the name of 
love, and, although he had disclaimed any pretension to 
bind Lady Florence, he thought in his heart that she 
ought to proclaim herself either bound or fr^e. Why had 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


317 

she consented to meet him if that was all that she had to 
say to him ? 

She threw an appealing- glance at him, which he did 
not choose to see, and remarked : “I knew you wouldn't 
understand ; men never do. It’s because you don't live 
at home. You have rows with your father sometimes 
about bills and things ; but as soon as the row is over you 
go away, and there's an end of it. There’s never an end 
of it with girls : besides, we can’t feel sure that we aren’t 
undergoing miseries which you have no notion of, for 
nothing. I think I know that you love me now ; but I 
don't know in the least, nor do you, that you will love 
me when I am twenty-one. So you see ” 

“ I see,” interrupted Frank, “that you are ready to sur- 
render yourself, soul and body, to Lady Burcote and 
Galashiels ; that’s all I see at present. And I must say 
that I thought you had more courage. ” 

Lady Florence snatched her handkerchief out of her 
pocket and began to cry. She declared, between her sobs, 
that she had always been accounted plucky, and that she 
would brave her mother if anything could be gained by 
braving that redoubtable lady. But what hope or chance 
was there? “I shall never be allowed to see you; I 
shall never know where you are or what you are doing ; 
you will meet heaps of girls much nicer in every way than 
I am ! I am not heartless or selfish, though you want to 
make me out so, and I can’t help it if you prefer scolding 
me to allowing me just one happy quarter of an hour to 
look back upon. I wish I hadn’t come here ! ” 

When lovers fall out, and when one of them has re- 
course to tears, we all know what line of action the other 
is prone to adopt. Frank was not disobedient to the 
behests of Nature, and an incipient quarrel was speedily 
resolved into a renewal of vows which may mean much 
or little, according to circumstances. How much they 
might mean in this particular instance was just what Mr. 
Innes was very eager to ascertain as soon as he recovered 
partial possession of his reasoning faculties but the infor- 
mation vouchsafed to him was scarcely as definite as he 
could have wished it to be. Lady Florence, by the time 
that her pony-carriage had been waiting ten minutes for 
her at the lych-gate, had indeed promised that she would 
do her utmost to remain faithful to him ; but she had 
not distinctly specified what was implied in her utmost. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3 ^ 

How could she? “All sorts of dreadful things may 
happen,''' she said. However, she did think that she 
might undertake to refuse Lord Galashiels a second time, 
and perhaps, since he was so bumptious and self-satisfied, 
he would go off in a rage and decline returning thrice to 
the charge. Meanwhile, she implored Frank to leave the 
neighborhood. She dared not run the risk of meeting 
him privately again, while it would be both dangerous 
and unsatisfactory to meet him in public. By all means, 
let him go abroad and study music, as he had proposed ; 
if they both kept up their friendship with Miss Rowley, 
some means of indirect communication might be discov- 
ered later on. But for the present it was much safer and 
better that the English Channel, as well as several hun- 
dred miles of dry land, should be placed between them. 

Fortified by these somewhat vague assurances, and 
comforted by others which have not been recorded here, 
but which were not at all vague, Frank plodded back to- 
wards Swinford Manor, sublimely indifferent to the cir- 
cumstance that his prolonged absence might have been 
noticed and commented upon. The sunny landscape 
looked less flat and uninteresting and unsympathetic than 
it had done a short time before ; the heat felt less oppres- 
sive ; the world appeared to be, upon the whole, a better 
and more cheerful place ; though, to be sure, it still ad- 
mitted of improvement. The mere fact of having heard 
a girl say “I love you,” should not (especially when she 
has already said the same thing a score of times) suffice 
so to affect the mental condition of a sensible man ; but 
if we were all sensible, we should never be young, and 
if we were never young, our birth would be an unquali- 
fied misfortune. 

A gentleman who, although still young, enjoyed the 
reputation of being rather more sensible than the majority 
of his neighbors, chanced at that moment to be giving 
himself and his cob a little gentle exercise by cantering 
along one of the grass-bordered lanes which Frank had to 
traverse, and he drew rein on catching sight of the pedes- 
trian. 

“Hullo, Frank!” he called out; “where have you 
sprung from ? ” 

“ I haven't sprung from anywhere in particular,” an- 
swered the other. “ I’m staying with Miss Rowley, you 
know, and I'm out for a constitutional. One can't loaf 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


319 


about the garden all day long. It would be more to the 
purpose if I asked you where you had sprung from. I 
thought you were bound to be within hail of Westminster 
and Whitehall. ” 

“Not during the recess,” said Douglas, smiling. “ I 
came home last night, and I am all alone ; so when you 
are tired of loafing about Miss Rowley’s garden and tak- 
ing constitutionals, perhaps you will come and keep me 
company. ” 

Frank shook his head. “Thanks awfully; but I’m 
afraid I can’t, ” he replied. “ I’m going abroad to complete 
my musical education, and I ought to be off at once.” 

“What — this very day ? ” 

“Oh, I don’t know about to-day; but to-morrow or 
next day, perhaps. You see, if I’m to do any good, I 
must look sharp about it.” 

“ That’s it, is it ? H’m ! — well, I daresay you are right, 
and I doubt whether you are doing much good here, any 
way. There’s a jaunty, unconcerned look about you, 
my dear Frank, which is evidently meant to conceal 
either grief or guilt. One doesn’t want to display imper- 
tinent curiosity ; still, if you didn't mind telling me, I 
should like to know whether Lady Florence ordered you 
out of the country when you met her just now.” 

“ How on earth did you know that I had met her?” 
exclaimed Frank, opening his eyes. 

“I didn’t; it was only a shot. I had- heard that she 
was in these parts, and I couldn’t quite believe that you 
were tramping across country under a broiling sun merely 
for the purpose of keeping your fat down. That young 
woman seems to have all the imprudence, as well as the 
prudence of her family. I won’t betray either her or you 
this time ; but I’m glad she has persuaded you to take 
yourself off, and I hope you won’t arrange any more 
clandestine meetings with her after she has become Lady 
Galashiels. It wouldn’t be an altogether unprecedented 
thing in her family, you know, to ” 

“Oh, shut up ! — shut up ! ” interrupted Frank ; “you 
don’t know what you are talking about. There’s nothing 
in common between her and her sisters. Besides, she 
isn’t going to be Lady Galashiels. At least, I hope and 
believe she isn’t. I should like to tell you all about it ; 
only I can’t if you will persist in misrepresenting people. ” 

Douglas declared that he would abstain from misrepre- 


3 20 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


senting anybody, and, in consideration of that formal 
promise, he was at once admitted into the full confidence 
of his cousin. He could, however, only shake his head 
over the recital of Frank’s intentions and hopes. 

“The fact is that you are asking too much,” he said. 
“It’s a simple enough matter for you to wait a year or 
so ; but I suspect it would be a precious hard matter for 
her. Moreover, I must confess that I don't feel as san- 
guine as you do about your making a lot of money in a 
short time. I may be able to help you out a little ; but 
what I could offer wouldn’t be nearly enough to tempt 
Lady Burcote, and- ” 

“ But, my dear old man, the point of the whole thing 
is that , we aren’t going to ask Lady Burcote’s leave ; 
we’re going to be" of age and assert our independence, 
don’t you see? And I certainly couldn't think of letting 
you help me out with money more than you are doing 
already — perhaps not as much. The way you really 
could help us — you and Miss Rowley — would be by act- 
ing as sort of links between us during all the long time 
that we shall be separated. I don't mean to suggest 
that you should convey letters, or anything of that kind ; 
but you might just remind her of me every now and 
then, and perhaps she might sometimes give you a mes 
sage for me.” 

Douglas shook his head more emphatically than ever. 
“ Quite out of the question,” he answered. “ Miss Row- 
ley, of course, can do what she pleases ; but I am not go- 
ing to be mixed up with anything underhand. Moreover 
you make a very great mistake if you fancy that Lady 
Burcote’s power consists in her legal privileges. I sup- 
pose you will think me unfeeling ; but really and truly 
you had much better make up your mind at once to the 
inevitable.” 

Frank shrugged his shoulders. “To tell you the hon- 
est truth, I do think you’re a little bit unfeeling, ” he con- 
fessed ; “still, I don’t deny that you are right, from the 
common sense point of view. There are other points of 
view, though ; and Miss-Rowley, who has about as much 
common sense as most people, can see them. I wish 
you would come over and have a talk with her ; because 
I’m sure she is on my side, notwithstanding her pretence 
of washing her hands of the whole business.” 

“ I shall be very glad to go to S win ford Manor if Miss 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


321 


Rowley invites me,” answered Douglas ; "but I am afraid 
I can’t go unless I am asked ; for I have been in her black 
books of late — why, I can’t tell. One never can tell what 
women are after, and I shouldn’t advise you to rely too 
much upon her partisanship. Not that you will listen to 
my advice, or that my talking your affairs over with her 
would serve any purpose.” 

"Douglas,” said Frank, gravely, "I’ll tell you what it is : 
you’re soured. That’s what’s the matter with you ; and 
a great duffer you are to allow yourself to be soured in 
this way. Now, I was talking the other day to Leon- 
forte, who isn’t half a bad fellow when you get to know 
him, and my belief is ” 

"For Heaven’s sake,” exclaimed Douglas, gatheringup 
his reins hastily, " let that sleeping dog lie ! I have heard 
and seen more than enough of him, and I assure you you 
won’t sweeten my sour nature by repeating any of his 
speeches to me. Be off to foreign lands, and let me have a 
line from you as soon as you have come to your senses.” 

Frank received a severe scolding, that afternoon, from 
his hostess, who contrived without much difficulty to ex- 
tract from him an unreserved confession of what he had 
been about. Sfie told him that such goings-on would not 
do at all, and expressed the utmost astonishment when he 
boldly asserted that she had given a tacit consent to them. 

"Oh, you’re crazy — downright crazy !” she declared; 
"it would be a waste of breath to dispute with you. In- 
deed, your craziness is the only excuse for your reckless 
behavior. A pretty mess you would have landed me in 
if Lord Burcote had caught you embracing his daughter ! 
Happily, you* are going abroad : if you had been going to 
stay in England, I suppose one’s clear duty would have 
been to send you flying out of one’s front-door. By the 
time that you come back again the stern logic of facts will 
probably have convinced you that there isn’t much room 
for romance in the nineteenth century.” 

" That’s Douglas’s view,” remarked Frank. " I wasn’t 
surprised at him ; for he has had rather a sickener, and 
perhaps it’s only natural that he should be down upon all 
women ; but I didn’t expect to hear such sentiments from 
you. Why should you take it for granted that Florry has 
no heart and no courage ? ” 

"I take it for granted that Florry, as you call her, (and 
as you have no business to call her), is a girl like another ; 

21 


3 22 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


and Douglas Colborne was no fool if he told you that 
there are a thousand complications which are likely to 
prevent her from doing what you so coolly request her' 
to do. You have seen him, then ? ” 

“ Yes; I met him on my way back from Stoke Morton. 

I wanted him to come over here and have a chat with 
you ; but he said he was in your black books, for some 
reason or other, and he wouldn't come without a formal 
invitation. I was sorry at the time ; I don’t much care 
now, since it seems that you quite agree with him/’ 

“So far as you are concerned, I probablydo agree with 
him. I didn't know I had disagreed with him about any- 
thing else, and I can’t think what he meant by saying that 
he was in my black books. However, I darfesay he will 
recover himself in time, and if he doesn’t, I must endeavor 
not to break my heart. Did you say you would have to 
leave to-morrow ? ” 

Frank had not contemplated quite so precipitate a 
departure ; but his feelings were hurt, and he replied un- 
hesitatingly that such was his intention. He was not 
pressed to reconsider it ; only, on the following morning, 
just as he was taking his leave, Peggy could not restrain 
herself from breathing one or two parting words of com- 
fort to him. 

“ I can’t do anything for you,” she said ; “ you oughtn’t 
to have expected it. Still I don’t mind owning that I wish 
I could. And if I were in your place — well, I won’t say 
what I was going to say ; but you may take my word 
for it that, in cases of this kind, an ounce of audacity is 
worth tons of patience. Good-bye : you won’t be forgot- 
ten before the- autumn. At least, I don’t think you will.” 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

DR. SCHOTT PRONOUNCES SENTENCE. 

The Countess’s health did not improve, while her spirits 
and her temper remained in an unsatisfactory condition, 
after her summary dismissal of Leonforte. She did not 
want to stay in Paris ; but she did not particularly want 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3 2 3 


to go anywhere else, and it was only in obedience to the 
reiterated entreaties of Dr. Schott that she consented at 
length to betake herself to Aix-les-Bains for a time. 

“God knows/’ said' the doctor confidentially to the 
Baroness von Bickenbach, “it is not the waters of Aix-les- 
Bains, or of any other place where there are mineral springs, 
that will do her any good ; but she must be amused some- 
how or other, and I have found out that she will be en pays 
de connaissance. ” ( bays de gonnaissance, h*e pronounced it) 
“down there. She will meet the Duchesse de Chalmai- 
son, the Princess Kischineff and other great ladles, not to 
speak of the swarm of those young Frenchmen with whom 
she likes to surround herself, and who, between ourselves, 
are not the finest specimens of a decaying race. Still, 
provided that they amuse her, that is all that we need to 
ask of them. ” 

Bickenbach sighed and remarked that she would rather 
have heard that the Countess proposed to spend the sum- 
mer in England. 

“ Suggest that plan to her, then,” returned the Doctor, 
shrugging his shoulders. “ It did not succeed very well 
last time ; but if you believe in a repetition of the dose, by 
all means suggest it. For my own part, I am not anxious 
to have my head bitten off.” 

Perhaps Bickenbach was equally devoid of any such 
ambition or perhaps, having burnt her fingers once, she 
shrank from trying further experiments upon a lady who 
was not much given to accepting unasked-for advice. At 
any rate, she kept her opinions to herself ; and, after all, 
Aix-les-Bains, when the establishment had been transferred 
thither, seemed likely to produce the, desired effect upon 
the invalid. 

The Countess was really an invalid by this time. Her 
cough was excessively troublesome ; she had lost weight ; 
she slept badly, and her ^nerves were in such a constant 
state of irritation that she\vas by no means the pleasantest 
person in the world to live with. Nevertheless, she did 
derive benefit from the change of scene and from the 
society of the bright little Savoyard watering-place. The 
French Duchess, the Russian Princess, the pallid dandies 
— all these people, with their chatter, their liaisons and 
their wearisome old scandals, did not satisfy her soul ; 
yet they filled up her time, and she could not help asso- 
ciating with them. In Paris she could live alone ; shut 


3 2 4 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


her doors against visitors and brood over her troubles ; 
but such a mode of existence was scarcely possible at Aix, 
and, in spite of herself, she yielded to the influence of 
surroundings which, when all was said, had become not 
only habitual but almost essential to her. That kind of 
thing was life, so far as life could be understood or enjoyed 
by a woman in her position : she did not forget that she 
had tried something different and that she had not liked it. 

So she joined *in picnics and excursions; she dined with 
her friends, and her friends dined with her ; and Bicken- 
bach, to whom Leonforte’s disappearance from the scene 
had come as an immeasurable relief, began to hope that 
happier times were in store for her and for her patroness. 
This excellent and kind-hearted woman received a shock 
as terrible as it was unexpected when she was joined one 
evening, on her way homewards from a sketching expedi- 
tion, by Dr. Schott, who was smoking a long pipe and 
contemptuously surveying the smartly-attired passers-by. 

“What a deplorable crew!" he exclaimed. “Three 
fourths of them will be dead five years hence, and it will 
serve them right, and the world will be well rid of them. The 
world is already over-populated ; it has no need of people 
who can only prolong their useless existence by means of 
mineral waters and baths. Admitting, that is to say, that 
the mineral waters and baths do prolong the existence of 
those who resort to them — which is extremely doubtful." 

The Baroness shook her fore-finger at him with middle- 
aged sprightliness. “Oh, what a shocking doctor ! " she 
cried. “It does not become you to sneer at your own 
remedies — particularly when they have turned out to be 
so efficacious in the^ case of your own patient. During 
the last week the Countess has become almost herself 
again, Heaven be praised ! " 

“Praise Heaven as much as you please/' returned 
Doctor Schott, removing his pipe from his lips and blow- 
ing a cloud of smoke into the still air ; “ there can be no 
harm in your doing that, although you might have selected 
a more fitting occasion for thanksgiving. Certainly the 
Countess is herself ; Heaven, which sent her into being 
with an inherited tendency to phthisis, has not seen fit to 
make her the subject of a miracle by converting her into 
somebody else. In our days miracles no longer occur ; 
and that is why the Countess Radna will be dead and 
buried as spon ns the rest of theni— perhaps sooner, Roy 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


325 

my part, I do not return thanks and I do not complain : 
what cannot be helped can only be submitted to.” 

Bickenbach dropped her sketching-book and threw up 
her hands. “ Ack , du lieber Go ft! ” she; shrieked. ‘‘But 
you are not serious ! — you do not mean what you say ! ” 

“I mean,” returned the Doctor, composedly, “that 
there is organic disease. I do not say that she is dying. 
With care, she might be kept alive for an indefinite length 
of time ; only she is a bad patient, because she is so 
excitable. This place has done her good mentally ; phys- 
ically she is neither better nor worse than she was when 
she left Paris. We all know how the body is affected 
by the mind, and it is doubtless important that her life 
should be made agreeable to her : it is also very important 
indeed that she should not- catch cold. But if you ask me 
what chance she has of being restored to health, I must 
tell you that she has no chance at all.” 

Dr. Schott here embarked upon a lengthy and dispas- 
sionate medical harangue with which there is no necessity 
to afflict the reader. Bickenbach, who was terribly afflicted 
by it, was informed, in conclusion, that it had been deliv- 
ered to her merely for her guidance, and was instructed 
to refrain from breathing a word of it to the Countess, 
Consumptive patients, she was told, very seldom realize 
their condition, and ought always to be kept in the dark : 
while there is life there is. hope ; and when hope flies away 
life speedily follows. What can be done, and what should 
be done, for those who are under sentence of death is to 
gratify their whims and submit to their petulance. In 
that way their brief journey towards the cemetery may be 
made easy for them, 

All this was inexpressibly painful to the poor old Bar- 
oness,' and was perhaps also painful to her companion, 
although he had the advantage of her in being a philosopher 
and in having kept watch for many years o’er man’s 
mortality. But irremediable situations must perforce be 
acquiesced in, and Bickenbach contrived to play the part 
assigned to her with less effort than she could have 
believed possible. After a day or two she took comfort 
from the thought that actual danger was probably remote. 
Dr. Schott himself had said that the Countess’s life might 
be indefinitely prolonged ; the main thing was to neglect 
no precaution and to take extra care of one who was not 
much given to taking care of herself. If only it were 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3 2 6 

permissible to make a second appeal to Mr. Colborne, 
whose cold Britannic pride and displeasure would surely 
be overcome by an intimation of his wife’s state of health ! 
But Dr. Schott, when this course was timidly suggested 
to him, made a grimace and declined to associate himself 
with any such perilous enterprise. 

“A diseased lung,” said he, “ cannot be healed in that 
way. Besides, she is no longer in love with the English- 
man. You would only enrage her by sending for him, and 
it is not good for her to be enraged.” 

The Doctor’s judgment may have been at fault. His 
patient would, no doubt, have been enraged by a pro- 
posal that her husband should once more be summoned 
from England ; but whether she would have been enraged 
by his appearance in obedience to a summons, and 
whether, if she had been, her health would have suffered 
through rage of that kind, is less certain. Meanwhile, she 
was far from suspecting that sentence of death had been 
passed upon her by a competent physician, and she con- 
tinued to amuse herself tolerably well until a spell of wet 
weather set in, which caused her to issue marching-orders 
with her customary abruptness. 

She had no particular reason for removing herself and 
her retinue to the high Alps, except that Dr. Schott strongly 
opposed the plan. Indeed, it is scarcely at Chamouni 
or Zermatt that sunshine can be- looked for while rain is 
falling in torrents over the whole of central Europe, and 
wet summer snow is perhaps even more dismal than 
summer rain. The Countess had a bad time of it, both 
mentally and physically, during her sojourn in chilly, 
draughty hotels, crammed with grumbling tourists. The 
food was bad ; she could not, for love or money, obtain 
half the number of rooms that she required ; she insisted 
upon walking out to see what chance there was of the 
clouds clearing away sufficiently to enable her to effect 
her escape, and, as a matter of course, she caught a bad 
cold. Then it was that for the first time she became 
seriously alarmed about herself. There are symptoms of 
which nobody can mistake the significance ; she noted 
that Dr. Schott, whom she had always looked upon as a 
persistent croaker, affected to make light of these, and one 
day she asked him suddenly whether she was going to 
die. He responded with a loud laugh, declaring that 
OYerybody was going to die, but that very few people 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


327 


died of a cold in the head. “ He wouldn’t have said that 
a year ago, ” reflected the Countess; “he would have 
said that, unless I did this, that or the other, I should be 
practically guilty of suicide.” 

The thought of approaching dissolution affects different 
people in different ways ; and, curiously enough, those 
who confidently look forward to an eternity of bliss are 
often more terrified by it than those who, like the Coun- 
tess Radna, are unable to discern any future on the other 
side of the grave. Yet to all it must needs come as a sort 
of revelation, changing the general aspect of the world 
and its inhabitants, reducing trifles to their true pro- 
portions, magnifying what may hitherto have seemed 
to be trifles, and exhibiting in a strange, clear light the 
utter insignificance of one poor, solitary, human creature 
amongst the millions who for a time jostle one another 
upon the surface of this globe. The Countess was not 
frightened, though she was saddened and a little startled. 
She had never coveted long life ; she had always recog- 
nized the fact that, for one constituted as she was, the 
loss of youth must needs imply a living death ; she had 
said over and over again that she hoped to die young ; 
she was not happy, nor did she expect that any number 
of coming years could bring her happiness. Still she had 
probably retained some unconscious, undefined hope 
which she was no\v forced to relinquish ; for tears of self- 
pity filled her eyes when she lay awake at night and 
mused upon her doom. She said nothing to the Doctor 
or to Bickenbach, perceiving that they had entered into a 
compact to deceive her for her own good ; but they did 
not deceive her : now that she possessed the clue to their 
conduct, they betrayed themselves a dozen times a day ; 
moreover, she knew by her own sensations that her race 
was nearly run. What, then, awaited her ? It was im- 
possible to say, and she was oddly devoid of curiosity 
upon the subject. The myth of Christianity, which she 
had rejected, might prove, after all, to have been no myth, 
but sober truth. In that event, she would surely not be 
condemned to everlasting and purposeless torments 
because of her inability to believe in dogmas incredible 
to human reason. She had no great sins upon her con- 
science, if she had not the memory of many righteous 
deeds upon which to plume herself ; she had tried to help 
her neighbors ; 3he had been generous to her depend- 


328 THE COUNTESS /SAUNA. 

ents ; she had injured no man — unless, indeed, her hus- 
band might take it into his head to consider that he had 
been injured by her. Annihilation seemed more likely ; 
and she hardly knew why she shrank from the. notion of 
being wiped out of conscious existence at once and for 
ever. Perhaps it was because she could not forget that 
dead baby who had preceded her, and whom she had 
never ceased to mourn. 

When at length the rain and the snow ceased, and when 
she was pronounced fit to travel again, she descended 
from the mountains to the Italian lakes. Dr. Schott 
recommended Bellaggio, and she did not think it worth 
while to gainsay him. She had, in truth, grown singu- 
larly amiable and amenable all of a sudden ; for her lone- 
liness had been -brought home to her, and she felt an 
eager and pathetic longing to be loved by the paid com- 
panions whose hands must close her eyes when all was 
ov6r. Companionship which was not paid for, and 
which was destined to arouse her for a time from her mel- 
ancholy self-communings7 was, however, at hand. She 
had not altogether forgotten her young friend Frank 
Innes ; but it was certainly not with him that her thoughts 
were occupied as she sat upon the terrace in front of the 
hotel, one fine, warm evening after dinner, gazing at the 
darkening lake and the little boats with which its smooth 
surface was dotted. So that she was as much surprised 
as she was pleased when Frank’s voice exclaimed, close 
to her ear : 

“To think that I should meet you, of all people, in this 
beautiful, stagnant, intolerable place ! What a rare stroke 
of luck ! ” 

“ I am far more likely to be met with in beautiful, stag- 
nant places than you are,” returned the Countess, hold- 
ing out her hand and smiling at him ; “ I have an eye for 
beauty and I don’t much mind stagnation in these days. 
But you ought to be in England, shooting some kind of 
bird or beast, ought you not ? ” 

Frank dragged an iron chair across the gravel, seated 
himself upon it, and explained succinctly how it had come 
about that he was wasting his time upon the shores of 
the Lake of Como. He had, it appeared, visited Dresden, 
Leipzig and Munich, only to find that professors of music 
and vocalists were absent on their annual holiday ; he was 
pow on his way to Milan, where he* had beep assured 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


329 

that he would meet with more skilled instructors than 
Germany could boast of ; only there was no great hurry 
about it, because the Milanese schools also were said to 
be closed for the present. He was, therefore, endeavor- 
ing to enjoy a period of enforced idleness, and his efforts, 
so far, had been rewarded by no sort of success. 

As you very truly say, ” he remarked, “ one ought to 
be shooting, or at least playing cricket or somethings when 
one hasn’t any work to do, and pulling about on this beastly 
old lake in a boat almost as heavy as an ordinary barge 
is rather poor fun. But, thank goodness, you’re here, and 
now we can have a good, long talk.” 

He had already been talking for some little time, and 
had informed her of his professional ambition, in which she 
was much interested. He had not mentioned Douglas 
Colborne, nor had he noticed any alteration in her ap- 
pearance. Indeed, he had casually remarked, with that 
careless optimism which belongs to youth and health, that 
she was looking “ uncommonly fit.” 

She knew that he was only blind because he had not 
taken the trouble to see'; she knew that he had abstained 
from speaking of his cousin simply because he had not 
chanced to think of that absent offender ; yet human nature 
is weak, and she could not help being pleased with him 
both on account of what he had said and what he had left 
unsaid. Besides, she was really feeling stronger and better 
than usual that evening. 

“ Take me out for half an hour in one of the boats that 
you call barges,” she said, rising abruptly. “I have been 
ill, I must tell you, and I am not supposed to be out after 
sunset ; but my doctor has fallen asleep over his pipe, and 
I have given my duenna the slip, and I have a fancy to go 
out on the water before they come to drive me indoors. 
You won’t find me an enormous addition to the weight 
of the boat.” 

Frank assented without hesitation or compunction. “ I 
expect your doctor is a donkey, like most doctors,” said 
he. “As if it could possibly hurt any one to be out of 
doors on such an evening as this ! Come along, and we’ll 
drift quietly across to Cadenabbia and back. I’ve half a 
hundred things to tell you yet. ” 

A few minutes later the Countess was comfortably 
esconced in the stern of the smallest boat that could be 
^iscoy§red, while Frank, betiding over the sculls which he 


33 ° 


THE CO UN TESS RA DNA . 


was lazily manipulating, confided to her willing ear one 
out of the fifty communications which he had professed to 
have on hand. The odd forty-nine (if indeed there were 
so many ) were all of them connected with that one, and 
he dwelt upon it at such extreme length as to leave him- 
self little time for entering upon subsidiary details. 

The Countess heard him out patiently and sympatheti- 
cally. Not being in love with Lady Florence Carey, she 
did not, of course, derive any special gratification from 
listening to exaggerated rhapsodies upon the subject of 
that young lady’s personal charms ; but She adored a good, 
old-fashioned romance, and she perceived how easily 
Frank’s romance might be brought to a satisfactory con- 
clusion in the good, old-fashioned way by the intervention 
of a benevolent outsider. She did not, however, propose 
at once to make him happy by means of a long check 
and her blessing. Love-matches, as she had sad reason to 
know, are not unfrequently repented of, and it might be 
well, before taking decisive steps, to ascertain the ear- 
nestness and the fidelity of this interesting couple. 

“ Have you spoken to my — to Mr. Colborne about all 
this ?” she asked at length. 

“Oh, yes, I’ve spoken to him ; I thought I was bound 
to do so. But he doesn’t approve and he doesn’t under- 
stand. For one thing, I don’t think he is quite clear about 
a professional singer being a gentleman, and he was dead 
against my giving up my Government clerkship. Then 
again, he is convinced that Lord and Lady Burcote will 
never allow their daughter to marry me, and he doubts 
whether either she or I will remain constant for several 
years. In short, he takes the common-sense view, you 
know.” 

“ He would be sure to do that ; it is so difficult for a re- 
spectable, mediocre Englishman to distinguish between 
common sense and uncommon nonsense. In reality it is 
you who are sensible and he who is a fool ; because what 
we are all struggling after is happiness in some shape or 
form, and if you would be happier as a public singer and 
the husband of your Lady Florence than as a bachelor and 
the head clerk in a Government office, you are quite right 
to struggle for what you want.” 

“That’s just what I say ! ” cried Frank. “I knew you 
would see things as I do.” 

“Yes; you are right to struggle for what you >yant ; 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


331 


but it doesn’t follow that you will get it. If you don’t, 
you must console yourself with the thought that you have 
done your best, and perhaps, after a time, you may have 
the further consolation of reflecting that it might not, after 
all, have been hvorth getting. I confess that your present 
scheme doesn't sound to me hopeful ; we must try to hit 
upon something more practical and practicable. I will 
think it over in the night — I have plenty of time for think- 
ing during the night now— and you must come and see 
me between twelve and one o’clock to-morrow, when I 
shall have finished breakfast. Now you can take me 
back, if you will. It isn’t exactly cold ; but it is rather 
chilly, don’t you think so ? ” 

Frank thought it was very hot and stuffy; but he no- 
ticed that his companion was shivering ; he noticed, too, 
that she had a bad cough and that there was something 
rather odd and changed about her voice. He hastened to 
comply with her request ; and, as he took leave of her 
upon the landing-steps, where she was received by Dr. 
Schott, promised to keep his appointment punctually on 
the morrow. 

The German physician, to whom he had not been intro- 
duced, glanced over his shoulder to growl out: “An 
appointment at a reasonable hour, I trust, sir ! _ The 
Countess Radna is under my care, and I will answer for 
nothing if she is exposed to the night dews again as she 
has been this evening.” 


CHAPTER XL. 

THE COUNTESS DEALS WITH THE SITUATION. 

The Countess had spoken only too truly when she told 
Frank that she always had plenty of time for meditation 
during the night ; but on that particular night her sleep- 
less hours seemed a little less interminable than usual to 
her, because she had something and somebody besides 
herself to think about. Amongst those who knew her best 
she passed for being a somewhat selfish woman ; but it 
was a good deal more her misfortune than her fault that 
she had so behaved as to earn that character. People 


332 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


who are really selfish are invariably good-natured ; they 
make the best of things ; they take all they can get ; they 
neither ask nor wish for impossibilities. The ones who 
cause trouble and inconvenience are those who, like the 
Countess Radna, love their neighbors, (or shall we say 
one or two of their neighbors ?), better than themselves, 
and must needs receive daily assurances, that their abnor- 
mal affection is reciprocated. The Countess had, as we 
know, been cruelly disappointed in her husband ; she 
had, furthermore, met with little but disappointment in 
all the attempts that she had ever made to better the con- 
dition of the fellow-beings with whom she had been 
brought into contact ; yet she was not so soured by these 
repeated failures but that she still ardently desired to per- 
form some kindly and useful act before she died ; and 
thus it was that Frank Innes, with his rather commonplace 
romance, came to her as a god-send. 

Commonplace though his romance might be, there were 
complications connected with it which rendered it at once 
interesting and perplexing. As far as money was con- 
cerned, it had to be borne in mind that Lord Galashiels 
was too rich a man to be simply and vulgarly outbidden, 
while there was no very obvious way in which Frank 
could be helped, save that of pouring money into his 
hands. Nevertheless, a more excellent way had suggested 
itself, before the morning, to Frank’s wakeful ally. She 
knew very well what she would do in his place, and she 
saw no reason why, if he were worth his salt, he should 
not be equally audacious. In these days there are many 
impediments, legal and other, to a runaway marriage ; 
yet — given certain conditions — they are not. wholly in- 
superable, and the Countess thought she had it in her 
power to overrule the scruples which both Frank and Lady 
Florence would probably feel. Anyhow, that was Frank’s 
only chance. “ Les absents ont toujour s tort, ” reflected the 
Countess. “He ought never to have left England, and, 
though she may have told him to go, it is most likely that 
he took his orders far too literally. She must be very 
different from other girls if she has no misgivings about 
him now that he is out of sight.” 

Any lingering misgivings that the Countess may have 
entertained as to the wisdom of her own proposed course 
of action were removed when the early post came in, 
bringing her, oddly enough, a letter from an English cor- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


333 

respondent which contained an important item of news 
about Lady Florence Carey. 

“I have just heard,” wrote this lady, “that the Bur- 
cotes have at_ last succeeded in engaging their only un- 
married daughter to Lord Galashiels. I don’t know 
whether you met him when you were in London. He 
isn’t fascinating, and Heaven alone can tell who his grand- 
father was ; but he has wealth enough to set the Burcotes 
upon their legs again ten times over ; so I suppose they 
ought to be congratulated. Especially as, by all accounts, 
there has, been a good deal of trouble in securing him. 
One is rather sorry -for the poor girl, who kicked vigor- 
ously, they say ; but then Lady Burcotes daughters should 
not be _so silly as to kick. By the way, the engagement 
hasn’t been publicly announced yet, *and I promised not 
to mention it ; but there can’t be any harm in my telling 
you , since you are not likely to be within hundreds of 
miles of any of us yet awhile, I am afraid.” 

Hence it resulted that, when Frank turned up to pay his 
respects at the appointed hour, he was greeted by a lady 
who, holding an open sheet of note-paper in one hand and 
tapping it with the forefinger of the other said : “This will 
teach you to take young women au pied de la lettre in 
future ! I foresaw, while you were relating your pretty 
story to me last night, what would happen, and now it has 
happened. You had better take your ticket for London at 
once.” 

“I don’t understand what you are talking about,” 
answered Frank, wonderingly. “What has happened ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing at all extraordinary. Only it seems that 
Lady Burcote and Lord Galashiels have profited by your 
retirement, and that, if you don’t make haste to prevent it, 
there will soon be a wedding in the family.” 

She then proceeded to read aloud the extract which has 
been quoted ; whereat Frank turned rather white. 

“I’m not acquainted with your friend,” he remarked ; 
“but, if you’ll excuse me for using simple language, I 
shouldn’t wonder if she was telling a lie. Not an inten- 
tional one, I dare say ; only, you know, some ladies are 
given to spreading about mere rumors as positive facts.” 

“And a great many of them are intentional liars into 
the bargain. This oire may be an intentional liar, and 
you are 'not bound to believe her ; still I wouldn’t be too 
incredulous if I were you, because what she says has all 


334 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


the appearance of truth. In any case, you will make no 
mistake by going back to England and finding out the truth 
for yourself. ” 

“ I don’t see what good that would do,” returned Frank, 
gloomily. “ Either it is a fact that Florry has engaged 
herself to that brute or it isn’t. If she hasn’t thrown me 
over, I shall have had my journey for nothing, and if she 
has — well, then there will be nothing more to be said.” 

•“Oh, how English you are, with your solemn assump- 
tion that there is no such thing in the world as intricacy ! 
Haven’t you really intelligence enough to understand that 
she may have engaged herself to the brute without having 
thrown you over ? Nobody ever yet won a battle by 
retreating ; but plenty of victories have been gained by a 
rash advance. Now I will tell you in a few words what 
to do. You return home; you contrive a meeting with 
Lady Florence — as you seem to have done that once, I 
suppose you can do it again— you find that she is betrothed 
to your rival — yes ; you must be prepared for that dis- 
covery, and you must endeavor to swallow down your 
reproaches. Well, then you persuade her to make her 
escape and marry you. You telegraph to me ; I receive 
her in my house in Paris, so that there will be no disregard 
of propriety ; and in a week or a fortnight — I do not know 
exactly how long- a delay the law requires — your marriage 
takes place. As for the expense, I charge myself with 
that. ” 

Frank Could not help laughing, though he did not feel 
particularly merry. The Countess’s scheme was delightful ; 
only it labored under the disadvantage of being, for many 
reasons, hopelessly impracticable. He mentioned two of 
these reasons, which seemed to him to be conclusive. 

“ Even if she could manage to escape from her father’s 
house,” said he — “and I don’t believe she could or would 
— she would infallibly be traced to Paris and followed 
within a week. Moreover, I couldn’t ask her to marry 
me upon my present income ; it isn’t large enough. In 
two years, or perhaps even in a year, it may be ; but it 
isn’t large enough now:” 

“Oh, if you are going to wait until there are no diffi- 
culties to be surmounted, you will wait all your life. The 
difficulty about her placing herself under my protection is 
easily solved : as soon as I hear from you that you have 
obtained her consent, I will write and ask her to stay with 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


335 


me. Lady Burcote, who, you may be sure, is already 
beginning to think of wedding-presents, is not likely to 
object. She knows that I am rich and extravagant, and 
she would be sorry to deprive her daughter of a possible 
parure of diamonds. My riches and my extravagance en- 
able me to snap my fingers at your second difficulty also. 
Hear me out, please,” she continued, as Frank opened his 
lips to interrupt her; “I do not offer you a fortune. In 
the first place, you would not accept it ; secondly, I could 
not give you as much as would place you on an equal 
footing with Lord Galashiels ; thirdly and lastly, one would 
like to make sure that Lady Florence is willing to face a 
little hardship for your sake. But if she has the courage 
and sincerity that she ought to have, and if she doesn’t 
mind entrusting you with her future — why, then I think 
I may claim the privileges of relationship so far as to 
promise that you shall not starve.” 

It was not without some demur and a good deal of feeble 
argument that Frank yielded to the above representations ; 
but a man of his temperament was certain to yield to them 
in the long run, and indeed he could not see that there 
would be much harm in accepting temporary assistance 
from one who was so very well able to furnish it. 

“The only thing is, ” said he, after he had practically 
assented to all the concessions demanded of him, “that I 
don't feel as if I had a right to ask all you tell me to ask. 
It’s a strongish measure, you see, for a girl to contract a 
clandestine marriage and break with her people.” 

“ Of course it is,” returned the Countess ; “ but you ask 
far more of her when you ask her to refuse all offers until 
she is of age, upon the chance of your loving her as much 
then as you do now and having more money then than 
you have now.” 

‘ ‘ Ah, that’s what Douglas said. ” 

“I have no doubt he did. Fie ought to know, if any- 
body does, that a man’s love is a transient emotion.” 

Frank remembered all of a sudden that he had a mis- 
sion to accomplish, for the carrying out of which the present 
occasion seemed to be propitious. “Douglas isn t at all 
that sort of fellow,” he declared. “ I don’t know what is 
wrong between you, and I can't think that either of you 
can be to blame ; but I’ll answer for it that whatever he 
may be, he isn’t fickle. He’s as steady as a rock, and— — ” 

‘ “ And as unimpressionable. Impressions may be made 


33 6 


THE C0UN7ESS RADNA. 


even upon the surface of rocks, though; by a continual drip, 
and I suppose the steady persistency of Miss Rowley has at 
last met with the reward that steady persistency deserves. 
Far be it from me to grudge her her triumph ! ” 

“ Peggy Rowley ! ” exclaimed Frank ; “ you don’t mean 
to say that you suspect her of laying siege to your hus- 
band’s heart ! What can have put such an idea ns that 
into your head? Why Douglas and she have been friends 
ever sinee they were children ! More by token, they aren’t 
quite as good friends at the present moment as they once 
were. The last time I saw Douglas I wanted him to go 
and look her up, and he wouldn’t, because she hadn’t asked 
him. She seemed to have put his back up somehow or 
other. ” 

“ If having put his backup means that she has contrived 
to affront him, I congratulate her,” observed the Countess, 
smiling. “One doesn’t quarrel with a friend about noth- 
ing ; but it is always a good plan to quarrel a little with a 
lover. ” 

“ Is that why you quarrelled with him ? ” 

“ I didn’t quarrel with him ; we parted in order to avoid 
a quarrel — which shows that we couldn’t have been lovers 
any longer. To be perfectly honest, I will- own that I was 
not quite pleased when I first heard that everybody was 
talking about him and Miss Rowley ; I thought he might 
have shown better taste — in every way. However, that 
is of very little consequence now.” 

‘ £ I don’t know what you may have heard or what people 
may have talked about,” returned Frank ; “ but I’m sure 
he never gave them any excuse for talking nonsense. 
Why do you say that it is of no consequence now.” 

“ For reasons which will soon be apparent to you, but 
which I will keep to myself for the present, if you please. 
Let us return to your affairs. ” 

‘ ‘ But may I not take any message from you to Douglas ? ” 
persisted Frank. ‘ ‘ I shall have to tell him that I have met 
you, you know.” 

“ I have no message to send him, thank you,” answered 
the Countess. “Unless, perhaps, he would c^re to hear 
that a sort of message which was despatched to him, some 
time ago, by my companion the Baroness von Bickenbach 
was dispatched without my knowledge or authority. Yes ; 
you may tell him that from me, if you like.” 

Frank, knowing nothing about the message alluded to, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


337 


and hastily assuming that it had been, of a hostile char- 
acter, at once promised to do as he was requested. He 
made his interlocutor laugh by adding an emphatic assur- 
ance of his personal belief in Douglas’s fidelity. 

1 ‘ I have no doubt,” said she, ‘‘that you think him a most 
admirable person, and your judgment is not a fault. Tak- 
ing him as a whole, I have never met with a person quite 
so admirable — or quite so impossible to live with. We 
will hope that Miss Rowley doesn’t agree with me, and we 
will now, (because there is really no time to be lost), map 
out your plan of campaign distinctly.” 

No one, except a singularly quick-witted and unselfish 
individual, could have guessed from that that^he wanted 
to hear another word about her husband. Frank, whose 
wits were not abnormally acute, and who was not more 
unselfish than the general run of anxious lovers, accepted 
the change of subject without protest. He likewise ac- 
cepted, in substance, the programme which the Countess 
rapidly, but lucidly, submitted to his approval. He pro- 
fessed to be very uncertain as to whether it would meet 
with acceptation or approval when submitted to Lady 
Florence ; but he acknowledged his inability to replace it 
by any better scheme, and the gratitude which he ex- 
pressed before saying good-bye was evidently enhanced 
by an inward hope that he would ere long have something 
more definite to be grateful for. 

Shortly after he had left her, the Countess sent for Dr. 
Schott, and said : “I am going to Paris. I know you will 
abuse me ; but I can’t help it. One must buy one’s win- 
ter clothes, and nothing is so certain to make me ill as 
badly-fitting dresses. Now, it is a fact, though you prob- 
ably will not believe it, that no dress can ever be made to 
fit unless it has been tried on at least once ; so that in 
reality this journey is going to be undertaken for hygienic 
purposes. Besides, I caught cold only the other day, and 
I am sure you must have noticed that it takes everybody 
a month or six weeks to catch a second cold.” 

Contrary to her anticipation, Dr. Schott asserted no 
right of veto. “You have a warm house in Paris,” he 
answered ; “you may stay there until the middle of No- 
vember, if you choose. It will be time enough for you 
to move south when the frosts and the fogs set in. I 
venture to beg, however, that you will order your winter 
dresses to be made of woollen materials. ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


33 8 

Later in the day he said to Bickenba6h 7 who consulted 
him anxiously about- the proposed move : ‘‘It does not 
signify ; patients may safely be indulged when they are 
beyond the reach of remedies. Apparently that young 
Englishman who took her out on the water last night has 
told her something which has excited her ; perhaps it is 
in order to meet him again that she has decided to make 
for Paris. So much the better; for she suspects now that 
she is dangerously ill, and. the only service we can render 
her is to preserve her, by this means or by that, from fall- 
ing into a state of despondency which will hasten her 
death. ” 


CHAPTER XL1. 

LADY FLORENCE YIELDS TWICE. 

The Careys were commonly spoken of by their intimates 
as “ a queer lot,” that comprehensive description enabling 
their intimates to dispense with the labor of analysis. Yet 
they were not really so very queer, nor so very different 
from what other people would have been in their place ; 
although it must be owned that some of them had done 
queer things. What else, indeed, could be looked for 
from the daughters of their mother ? Lady Florence, not- 
withstanding the mother whom it had pleased Heaven to 
inflict upon her, had as yet been guilty of no offence much 
more heinous than that of having once met a young man 
by stealth in a country churchyard ; but it was not im- 
probable that, with the example of her nearest relatives 
before her, she might eventually be tempted to less excu- 
sable conduct, and she was dimly aware of her danger. 
That was one reason why she wished with all her heeirt 
to refuse a man so repugnant to her as Lord Galashiels. 
It cannot be said that the promise, or half-promise, which 
Frank Innes had extorted from her was another ; because 
she was persuaded that she never by any possibility could 
become Frank’s wife, and, that being so, she did not see 
what difference it could make to him whether she es- 
poused Lord Galashiels or somebody else. Meanwhile, 
her chances of espousing anybody else dwindled daily ; 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


339 


for his lordship continued to avail himself of the hospitality 
which was so willingly extended to him, while it was as 
certain as anything could be that he did not intend to 
submit to a second defeat without making a fight for it. 

Now, if Lord Galashiels had been equipped for the fray 
with nothing beyond such strength as he himself pos- 
sessed, he might have been beaten by a determined an- 
tagonist ; but what rendered him formidable was that he 
had an all-powerful ally in the person of Lady Burcote, 
by whom his attentions and intentions were cordially ap- 
proved of and seconded. It is altogether, irrelevant to 
assert — as people who are without personal experience of 
such trials are fond of asserting — -that a girl who is worth 
anything will never allow herself to be driven by a worldly- 
wise mother into breaking faith with a man whom she 
loves. The immense majority of us are not worth very 
much ; the immense majority of us have ideals of con- 
duct, more or less lofty, to which we find it practically 
impossible to conform, and we really have not the smallest 
right to condemn a callow maiden whose powers of resist- 
ance are limited. Lady Florence believed (and she was 
not so very far wrong) that her mother was invincible ; 
she knew what had happened in the case of her sisters ; 
she naturally did not like being scolded or punished ; and, 
like all human beings who, by one means or another, 
have been prevented from exercising their will freely, she 
had become something of a fatalist. What was to be 
would be : there was no earthly use in struggling against 
destiny. 

“ Florry dear,” said Lady Burcote, after breakfast one 
morning, “Lord Galashiels wants to ride over to the 
kennels. You had better go with him and show him the 
way. ” 

The girl made a feeble protest, which she did not expect 
to be of any avail, and which, when uttered, fulfilled her 
expectations. 

“The bay mare is lame, and there isn’t anything else 
for me to ride,” she said. “ Couldn’t papa go with Lord 
Galashiels ? ” 

“Your father thinks he is in for another fit of gout, and 
I am sure he must be right, or he wouldn’t be so crCss 
and contradictious. You can take his cob. Now, Florry, 

I want you to understand that this sort of thing has gone 
on long enough ; it can’t go on much longer. Patient as 


340 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


Lord Galashiels is, he won’t stand it. I myself have been 
extraordinarily patient ; I have allowed you to fight shy 
of him and to make excuses for avoiding him all this time 
because I didn’t wish to hurry you. But of course he has 
noticed it, and of course he isn’t best pleased. From what 
he said just now I gathered that he meant to repeat his 
offer to you this morning — and an uncommonly lucky girl 
you are to get such a chance twice, I can tell you J ” 

“ How astonishing men are ! ” exclaimed Lady Florence. 
“He knows that I hate him, because I have as good as 
told him so. Why can’t he look out for some girl who 
doesn’t hate him ! There must be lots of them about.” 

“Any number,” agreed Lady Burcote, dryly ; “ but for 
the present he prefers you to them all. There is nothing 
astonishing in that ; on the contrary, it is quite usual for 
men to covet what is denied to them, and, as things have 
turned out, I am not sorry that you began by refusing 
him. He is inclined t to be so uppish that a snub is good 
for him. All the same, it is possible to go too far ; you 
must not refuse him again. ” 

“ I hate him ! ” repeated Lady Florence disconsolately. 

Her mother glanced at her and returned, “Don’t talk 
nonsense, please.” 

It was not much to say : but Lady Burcote’s glance 
spoke volumes, and the girl went away to put on her habit 
with a thorough comprehension of what disobedience 
would entail upon her. Many men and almost all women 
can face physical pain ; but there are certain methods of 
daily torture from which any method of escape that may 
present itself must, in common justice and pity, be pro- 
nounced permissible. 

Llalf an hour later Lady Florence set out with her 
detested companion, and before they had advanced a mile 
towards the kennels (which Lord Galashiels had no desire 
at all to inspect) the anticipated declaration had been 
made. 

“You needn’t tell me,” said the red-headed, broad- 
shouldered young man, with a touch of resentment in his 
voice, “ that you don’t care for me now ; you have taken 
more pains than there was any need for to convince me 
of that ever since I have been here. But I care so much 
for you that I don’t mind taking my chance and trusting 
to luck. I can’t live without you, Lady Florence ; that’s 
the long and the short of it ” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


34i 


Lady Florence, staring straight between her horse’s ears, 
remarked, “ You aren’t proud.” 

“ Yes, I am ; most people would tell you that I’m devil- 
ish — I mean tremendously proud. I’m not at all the sort 
of fellow to turn the left cheek to anybody who has given 
me a slap on the right ; don’t you believe it ! But I’d 
turn both of them to you, and if you’d kiss me on the one, 
God knows you might hit me as hard as you liked on the 
other ! ” 

Lord Galashiels was rather pleased with this little speech, 
which surprised him by its appropriate neatness and which 
slipped off his tongue without any previous preparation. 
He added, after a momentary pause : “You have hit me 
pretty hard, as you know ; and the proof of how hard I’ve 
been hit is that here I am, kicking my heels day after 
day, instead of being on the moors.” 

“Oh, how I wish you would go to the moors ! ” ex- 
claimed Lady Florence, fervently. “Why don’t you?” 

“I will as soon as you have promised to be my wife ; 
that’s all I’m waiting for. I suppose you think I’m a fool ; 
but I am not. I understand all about it ; I know you 
would never promise anything of the kind if you were 
free to consult your own inclinations ; but the fact of the 
matter is that you aren’t free, and if you refuse to marry 
me, it will only end in your being made to marry some 
other man whom you love as little. Well, as I say, 
I’m willing to take my chance ; and why shouldn’t you 
consent to take yours ? If there’s nothing else to be said 
in my favor, it’s something that my eyes are quite open 
to the truth, and that I don’t ask you to pretend an affec- 
tion for me which you don’t feel. Very likely the other 
fellow, whoever he may be, won’t be so accommodating.” 

It would have been impossible to urge an unwelcome 
suit in more persuasive terms. Lady Florence hesitated 
for a few seconds and then said : “If I consented, would 
you promise upon your honor to -leave for Scotland to- 
morrow ? ” 

“ Yes ; I’ll agree to that condition.” 

“And it’s understood that I don’t love you a bit, and 
never shall ? ” 

“ It’s understood that you don’t love me at the present 
moment ; what may come in the future is another affair.” 

“No; don’t make any mistake about it. If you are 
kind to me, I shall like you perhaps : but I shall never 


342 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


love you. That is really the truth, and of course I would 
rather, for choice, marry a man whose eyes were open to 
it than one who might accuse me afterwards of having 
humbugged him. Only it does seem very odd that you 
should still wish to marry me, after what I have told 
you.” 

Lord Galashiels endeavored to explain why it wasn't 
odd. He was not successful, having little facility for put- 
ting his ideas into convincing language ; but he managed 
to persuade Lady Florence that the average husband is a 
far more objectionable person than he was likely to prove, 
and that, after all, was sufficient for his purpose. 

Upon the whole, he behaved wonderfully well. On 
their return home, the betrothal was announced to Lord 
and Lady Burcote, who sealed it with their benediction, 
or at least with a modern equivalent thereto ; but he 
ventured upon no familiarities, 'beyond that of once kiss- 
ing his fiancee’s hand, and he honorably fulfilled the terms 
of his compact by departing for the Highlands on the 
following morning. The wedding, it was arranged, was 
to be solemnized in November or December : meanwhile, 
the bride-elect was “ not to be bothered. ” The phrase 
was her own, and no objection was taken to it. Lady 
Burcote rrlade it a rule never to bother people who were 
sensible enough to do as they were told ; so for the next 
week or ten days her daughter had an easy and pleasant 
time of it. The time, that is to say, would have been 
easy and pleasant for Lady Florence if it had not slipped 
away with such alarming rapidity, and if she could have 
forgiven herself for her treachery to Frank Innes. But 
this was what, contrary to her anticipation, she found 
impossible of accomplishment. She loved him ; she had 
told him that she loved him ; he would not and could not 
make any allowances for hep ; henceforth he' would un- 
doubtedly despise her as a traitress. These were simple 
facts from which there was no escape, and they were 
present with her by day and by night. Sometimes she 
thought that, if she could see him once more and lay two 
or three other simple facts before him, she would be a 
shade less miserable. “ But perhaps,” she reflected, “ it 
is just as well that he is abroad. He will have got over 
his indignation and fallen ih and out of love half a dozen 
times, most likely, before we meet >gain — if we ever do 
meet again. All men are like that.” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


343 


This precocious judgment upon masculine nature at 
large, which was the fruit of hearsay rather than of expe- 
rience, received the refutation that it merited when Lady 
Florence, walking homewards one afternoon, after a soli- 
tary country ramble, was accosted by a tall, spare, gray- 
bearded individual, who touched hisTiat and said : 

‘‘Excuse me stoppin’ of you, my lady; but Ive just 
been up to see his lordship’s gardener about some o’ them 
new chrysanths, as is turnin’ out oncommon poor, I’m 
sorry to fin'd, and I understood from him as I might meet 
you, if I was to go back this way.” 

“Oh, is that you, Chervil?” said Lady Florence, with 
a sudden flicker of hope, which as suddenly died away 
under a conviction of its absurdity. “ I haven’t had time 
to look up old Eliza lately. She is all right, I hope ? ” 
“Right she is, my lady,” answered Peter, “bein’, in a 
manner o’ speakin’, beyond reach of earthly misfortuns. 
Which I wish I could say as much for some as lives in 
mansions, ’stead of alms-houses.” 

Peter drew a note from his breast-pocket, held it up 
between his finger and thumb, cleared his voice, and pro- 
ceeded : “This here billy, my lady, which Mr. Innes, as 
arrived at Stoke Leighton from the Continent yesterday, 
quite unexpected, and cornin’ up for to see me this morn- 
in’ — for he’s a gentleman as do take a deal o’ interest in 
gardenin’, you see, my lady — and owin’ to me havin’ 
mentioned casual as I might have to step across to his 

lordship’s in the course o’ the day ” 

“Give it to me,” interrupted Lady Florence, snatching 
the envelope out of Peter’s hand and thus relieving him 
from further struggles with a sentence which had es- 
caped his control. “I suppose you were to take back an 
answer, weren’t you 1 ” 

‘ ‘ As your ladyship pleases, ” answered Peter, slightly 
shocked by what struck him as an unseemly disregard for 
conventionality. His own delicacy had forbidden him to 
hint that he had undertaken a long tramp across country 
with no other object than that of surreptitiously delivering 
Frank’s missive ; but Lady Florence, who had been 
brought up in a school which has at least the merit of scorn- 
ing useless pretence, did not trouble herself to dissemble 
anything except her agitation. Having torn open the 
envelope and run her eye rapidly over the few lines which 
it contained, she said ; 


344 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


“ You may tell him that I will be there to-morrow at 
the same time as before. It will do no good ; but I don't 
suppose it will do much harm either.” 

Peter touched his hat and departed, without another 
word. He was a man of strict integrity, and he did not 
like to be involved in underhand dealings ; but, like many 
other men of strict integrity, he knew how to make terms 
with his conscience by ignoring what he was about. He 
had been asked to deliver a note and he had delivered it : 
its contents^were no concern of his. 

Lady Florence, for her part, did not always care to 
obey the voice of conscience ; and although it was quite 
plainly her duty to turn a deaf ear to Frank’s impassioned 
entreaty that she would meet him once more, she had no 
hesitation in turning her back,upon her duty. She wanted 
to see him ; she wanted to have one last opportunity of 
saying things to him which might or might not have the 
effect of causing him to think of her without rancor in 
the time that was coming; and it is not impossible that 
one or two readers of these pages may be acquainted 
with the keen satisfaction attendant upon conscious and 
deliberate peccadilloes. 

To the leniency of such honest and beloved fellow-sin- 
ners the present humble chronicler may safely appeal 
on behalf of poor Lady Florence, who told her mother a 
little fib on the morrow and who was permitted to drive 
over to Stoke Morton in her pony-carriage for the ostensi- 
ble purpose of visiting her old nurse. She did not visit 
old Eliza, having neither the time nor the heart to enter 
into details upon the subject of her approaching mar- 
riage, and as soon as she had disposed of her pony and 
her groom at the village inn, she walked straight to the 
churchyard, where Frank was impatiently awaiting her. 

“Is it true ?” was the first thing that he said, after a 
greeting over the precise nature of which a modest veil 
shall be drawn. 

‘ ‘ Of course ’it is true, ” she answered. ‘ ‘ I told you, you 
know, how it would be. It is horrible and disgusting and 
disgraceful and all the rest of it ; but it isn’t my fault, and 
— and it doesn’t very much matter. If the truth were 
known, I expect it matters ever so much more to me than 
it does to you. Don’t scold me ; that’s all I beg of you ! 
If you think I deserve to be punished, I can assure you 
that I am going to be punished — and pretty severely too ! 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


45 


Whatever happens, I shall never love any one but you : 
that’s what I came here to say.” 

“ And that’s the only thing that I wanted you to say,” 
Frank declared. “I did rather hope that you would have 
had the strength of mind to hold out against Galashiels 
and your mother ; but I daresay I’m no judge of how 
hard it is to resist the kind of pressure that has been 
brought to bear upon you, and I certainly don’t want you 
to be punished in the way that you are thinking of. You 
aren’t going to marry Galashiels, let me tell you.” 

“Oh, yes ; indeed I am !” returned Lady Florence, 
shaking her head mournfully ; “everything is quite set- 
tled.” 

“ Settlements be bothered ! Handsome as his may be, 
I don’t believe they’ll tempt you, and I don't believe you 
are any more afraid of poverty than I am. Come and 
* sit down on this old tombstone while I give an account of 
myself and of the plot that the Countess Radna and I have 
been hatching between us. The Countess has been a rare 
good friend to me,- and she wants to be a good friend to 
you too. At least, I hope you’ll think so.” 

Lady Florence, when the Countess’s audacious project 
had been revealed to her, did think so, and, as for poverty, 
she protested airily that that had no terrors for her. She 
did not, in fact, know what poverty was, whereas she 
knew very well what love was, and guessed also what it 
would mean to be united for life to a man whom she 
loathed. 

“ But I can’t bring myself to imagine,” she sighed, 
“ that such an event could ever come off. It is too wild 
and improbable! Mamma would be sure to find out all 
about it ; she always does find out all about everything. 
Beside, what should I do if she simply said that she didn’t 
wish me to accept the Countess Radna’s invitation ! ” 

“It will be time enough to think about that when she 
has said so ; but she won’t say so,” answered Frank, con- 
fidently. “ It was only your consent that was essential, 
and you’ve given your consent now, Heaven be praised ! 
I’ll telegraph to Paris this afternoon, and she’ll write to 
Lady Burcote at once. Would you mind if I were to 
stand on my head for one little moment ? ” 

“Yes, I should mind very much ; there’s nothing to 
stand on your head about ; don’t be idiotic !” returned 
Lady Florence, “ Ever so many things have to be 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


346 

considered yet. You are staying with your cousin, I 
suppose. Doesn’t he suspect what has brought you back 
to England in such a hurry ? ” 

“Now, look here,” said Frank ; “all you have to do is 
to go to Paris when you are asked : that doesn’t commit 
you to anything, does it? Leave the rest to me, and 
you’ll see how smoothly it will go. I have no doubt 
Douglas suspects why I have come back — indeed, I’m 
sure he does — but he won’t interfere ; he isn’t the sort of 
chap to interfere with things that don’t concern him. 
Moreover, when I take leave of him, he won’t ask me 
where I am going, and I shan’t volunteer the information 
that I am bound for the Avenue priedland.” 

Lady Florence had a good many more objections to 
urge; but none of them were seriously entertained, or 
even very seriously put forward. It was agreed that she 
should let Frank know, either through the post or through* 
Peter Chervil, whether her trip to Paris had been sanctioned 
or not ; and, although the conspirators remained in close 
conversation until it was high time for one of them to be 
wending her way homewards, the working out of their 
conspiracy was not the subject which chiefly engrossed 
them. For that reason, it will be divined that the re- 
marks which they interchanged before they parted were 
hardly of a nature to merit repetition. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

DOUGLAS PAYS A FRIENDLY CALL. 

Douglas Colborne had been more surprised than dis- 
pleased by the receipt of the telegram which announced 
his cousin’s sudden return to England and requested a 
week’s hospitality. Having been informed of Lady Flor- 
ence Carey’s engagement to Lord Galashiels, he had, of 
course, guessed at once what had caused the young man 
to change his plans, and although he did not believe that 
Frank would gain anything by a desperate appeal to the 
constancy of a girl who had been certain from the first to 
prove inconstant, he was willing to grant him any oppor- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


347 


tunity of making such an appeal that proximity might 
afford. Moreover, he himself was feeling very dull and 
lonely ; tor his mother and his sister, who had been stay- 
ing with him during the summer, had now departed on a 
round of visits, and, for various reasons, he had not cared 
to invite anybody else to occupy the vacant rooms which 
his housemaids had ceased to dust or sweep. He would 
not have dreamt of asking Frank to come and keep him 
company ; still he was not sorry that Frank’s personal incli- 
nations should have prompted him to adopt that course. 

Frank, when he arrived, was portentously mysterious, 
alleging that he had “one or two things to do ” which had 
necessitated his journey, but that he would in all probabil- 
ity set out for Italy once more in a few days, and disclaim- 
ing with an earnestness which \Vould not have deceived 
an infant any object in visiting Buckinghamshire sa/ve 
that rendered imperative upon him by considerations of 
gratitude and the ties of relationship. As, however, he 
was not questioned, (which was rather provoking), and 
as his -temperament was the reverse of secretive, he had 
not been many hours under Douglas’s roof before he had 
to all intents and purposes divulged his true errand. 

“ I know nothing at all about it,” his host said, in reply 
to certain leading observations which w^re made after 
dinner ; “ all I have heard is that Lord Galashiels and Lady 
Florence are to be married before the end of the year. If 
you want to hear more, you had better apply at head- 
quarters, hadn’t you? Not that I should advise you to do 
anything of the sort ; because I don’t see what more there 
is to be heard — to any purpose. Do as you like, though ; 
it’s your affair, not mine. You will end, most likely, in 
coming round to my opinion that women aren’t worth a 
tenth part of the bother that we give ourselves about 
them.” 

“ Some women are worth nothing at all ; but it’s absurd 
to condemn them in the lump, as you do,” ansWered 
Frank, wdth equal veracity and sagacity. “I’m not pre- 
pared to say, ” he continued, “whether I shall apply at 
head-quarters for further information about Lady Florence’s 
engagement — supposing that there really is an engage- 
ment. I may or I may not. But there are worse plans 
than applying at head-quarters, and, between you and me, 
I doubt whether you would regret it if you were to give 
that plan a trial.” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


348 

He then related how he had chanced to fall in with the 
Countess Radna at Bellaggio, and how her language and 
demeanor had convinced him that she was by no means 
irreconcilable. Naturally, he failed to convey a similar 
impression to his cousin by the delivery of the only mes- 
sage which she had been pleased to send to him ; and 
Douglas, after this had been duly communicated to him 
merely remarked : 

“ It was quite unnecessary for her to say that ; I never 
for one moment imagined that she had authorized the 
Baroness von Bickenbach to write to me and I didn’t 
attach the slightest importance to the letter. I take it that 
my wife, who isn’t a child, knows her own mind. It is 
possible, though I don’t think it is probable, that she 
would like me to eat humble-pie once more ; but I have 
done so once, and once is enough. Please don’t set me 
down as an unmannerly brute if I beg you to drop the 
subj ect. ” 

Frank said no more — being, indeed, provided with 
other subjects of a more engrossing and urgent character 
to think about — but Douglas was angered and irritated 
beneath his- assumed composure, and during the whole of 
the following day he had much ado to restrain himself 
from" speaking snappishly to the various persons with 
whom he was brought into contact. “ Why can’t she let 
me alone ! ” he kept saying to himself. ‘ ‘ We are separated 
by her own wish ; I haven’t attempted to interfere with 
her in any way since she left me, and surely she might 
be magnanimous enough to return the compliment. But 
magnanimity isn’t included in the list of her virtues. ” 

The list of her virtues, had it been drawn up at this time 
by him, would in truth have proved a remarkably short 
one. Nothing is more easy or more common than to fall 
in love with a woman whose conspicuous virtues are few 
in number; but nothing is more difficult than to remain in 
love with one to whom certain good qualities have been 
mistakenly ascribed ; and this was Douglas Colborne’s 
present case. He had unquestionably made a mistake ; 
his wife had proved — she had even, apparently, taken 
some trouble to prove — to him that she was not what he 
had imagined her to be. Perhaps she was not to blame 
for his vain imaginings ; yet he could not acquit her of 
all the blame in the matter, nor had he been able to think 
of any adequate reply to Loo, who, during her sojourn at 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


349 


Stoke Leighton, had more than once lamented openly and 
unblushingly that he should have gone so far afield in 
search of a wife, when a lady who would have made an 
admirable wife for him in all respects might have been 
found within an easy walk of his home. He had allowed 
Loo to make speeches of that kind because they had' not 
been as disagreeable to him as, possibly, they ought to 
have been ; he had likewise allowed her to put an end to 
an estrangement to which no spoken allusion had been 
made, and he was now once more upon friendly terms 
with Peggy Rowley, although their old intimacy could 
hardly be said to have been renewed. 

Thus it suggested itself to him almost in the light of a 
duty, on the morning when Frank Innes, without stating 
whither he was bound, started off to meet Lady Florence 
Carey in a country churchyard, that he should ride over 
to Swinford Manor and hold a consultation with one of 
Frank’s most trusted friends and advisers. Obviously the 
young man meditated some foolish proceeding or other, 
and obviously it behoved those who were interested in 
him to ascertain what notion he had taken into his head. 
So Douglas, after disposing of a solitary luncheon, ordered 
his horse and trotted over highways and byways to his 
neighbor’s residence. 

He was incorrect in his surmise that Frank had visited 
her on the previous day, and it was neither with him nor 
with his cousin that her attention was occupied when he 
hooked his hunting-crop into the handle of her door-bell. 
Miss Rowley was at home, the butler said, but he believed 
she was out in the garden ; and it was only after a delay 
of five minutes that Mr. Colborne was requested to be 
so kind as to join her there. He found her deep in con- 
versation with her head-gardener, who touched his hat, 
on the advent of the new-comer, without pausing in a 
harangue upon the ravages of black fly, while Peggy 
merely held out her hand and did not turn her head. 

“That is all very fine,” said she, when Peter had made 
an end of speaking ; “but the upshot of it seems to be 
that other people can grow chrysanthemums as they ought 
to be grown and that we can't. Is black fly unknown at 
Lord Burcote’s place ? ” 

Then she turned to her visitor and appealed to him, as 
an impartial observer, to say whether it wasn’t too bad. 
“ Peter chooses to sneer at Lord Burcote’s single stems ; 


35 ° 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


but he is obliged to admit that Lord Burcote’s man has 
succeeded where he has failed. I'll trouble_ you just to 
look at that Mrs. Alpheus Hardy ! — and at that Louis 
Boehpier ! Did you ever see such specimens ? ” 

“I’m no judge,” answered Douglas, laughing. “ Com- 
paring your chrysanthemums with my own, I should have 
said that you had every prospect of a magnificent show ; 
but I daresay the Burcote establishment produces some 
troublesome growths. It has produced one which is not 
unlikely to give me trouble, I know ! In point of fact, I 
came here to talk to you about her, and I shall be thank- 
ful to be reassured, if you can reassure me, when you 
have done pointing the finger of scorn at your flower- 
pots.” 

Peter Chervil shot a sharp side-glance at the speaker ; 
but Peggy’s countenance expressed nothing but innocence 
and interrogation. She continued to make trenchant 
criticisms and issue orders for some little time ; but event- 
ually she motioned to her visitor to follow her towards 
the house and invited him to explain his errand. 

“ If you have come to rebuke me about Florence Carey’s 
engagement, you have come to the wrong place,” said she. 
“I have done all I could to prevent it; but I couldn't 
do anything worth speaking of, and I knew from the 
first what the end of it all would be. When you write to 
your cousin, you may tell him from me that he has only 
himself to thank. I don't suppose there was ever much 
chance for him ; but he might have had a try, instead of 
bolting out of the country and leaving things to take their 
course. ” 

“Frank has come home,” answered Douglas; “I 
thought he must have been to see you yesterday. Any- 
how, I am pretty sure that he has gone to see Lady 
Florence to-day, and I wish he hadn’t ! I have no wish 
to rebuke you, or anybody else, about the girl’s engage- 
ment ; on the contrary, she is. welcome, so far as 1 am 
concerned, to marry whom she pleases, except Frank. 
But I'm rather uneasy about him. I can’t make out what 
he is after, and I was in hopes that you might be able to 
enlighten me.” 

“ Oh, he has come back, has he ? ” said Peggy. “No ; 
I can’t throw any light upon his intentions. He hasn't 
had the impudence to impart them to me, I am glad to 
say, and I should have refused to listen to him if he had 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


35i 


attempted anything of the sort. At the same time, I am 
free to confess that nothing would delight me more than 
to hear of his having cut out Lord Galashiels and snatched 
Florry away from the clutches of that unnatural old 
mother of hers/' 

“ How could he do that ? ” 

“ I’m not saying that he can or that he will ; only, as 
you are sure that he has gone to see Florry, it seems 
probable that he has some object in view, and it doesn’t 
seem very probable that his object in travelling all this 
distance was to congratulate her.” 

“That’s just it,” observed Douglas, meditatively. 

Peggy looked at him and laughed. After a short inter- 
val of silence, she said : 'I don't think there is any great 
need for you to distress yourself ; Florry is too much 
cowed by Lady Burcote to break out into open rebellion, 
and Mr. Innes is — well, he isn't as rash as I should like 
him to be. , So it will be all right, and he will return to 
his musical studies presently, and you will be able to 
return to the management of foreign affairs with a quiet 
mind.” 

“Why do you always talk as if I cared about nothing 
except my own comfort ? ” asked Douglas, in a somewhat 
injured tone. 

“I wasn’t aware that I had. When did I talk in that 
way ? ” 

“ Well, it is true that you haven’t talked much to mein 
anyway of late,” answered Douglas ; “ but whenever you 
do honor me so far, you take up the same sort of tone as 
you are taking now. And I can’t quite understand w r hat 
I have done to deserve it.” 

The complaint was a sufficiently absurd one ; but the 
injustice of it was a good deal less provoking to Peggy 
than it would have been to a man. She perceived that 
he was vexed with her for having shunned him, not on 
account of any real or imaginary change in her opinion 
of him ; and injustice arising from such a cause is seldom 
found unpardonable by the gentler sex. She did not, 
however, wish to embark upon a line of defence which 
might lead to embarrassing explanations ; so she con- 
tented herself with begging him briskly not to be so silly. 

“If I meant to accuse anybody of thinking a little 
bit too much about his own comfort, it was Mr. Innes, 
not you,” she declared. “But, as a matter of fact, we 


35 2 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


all think about our own comfort ; and quite right too ! 
There’s no special merit in being uncomfortable : other- 
wise, I dare say you would be a good candidate for a 
prize ; for you generally seem to succeed in making your- 
self so. Why quarrel with me for trying to persuade you 
that you needn’t make yourself so about your cousin ? ” 
He had no quarrel at all with her on that score, and he 
hastened to assure her that he had none. “But it’s use- 
less to pretend,” he added, “that we are as good friends 
as we used to be. You know very well that we aren’t, and 
I suppose you .also know why we aren’t, /don’t.” 

“Well, I believe there was a sort of a coolness,” an- 
swered Peggy, laughing ; “but I was under the impres- 
sion that it had been banished through the good offices of 
Loo ; and it’s always a mistake — don’t you think so ? — to 
inquire into the causes of little tiffs and huffs ; inquiry is 
so apt to start them again. Let us assume that this one 
was causeless and say no more about it. Will you come 
in and have a cup of tea with Miss Spofforth ? ” 

Douglas declined both Miss Spofforth and the tea. He 
did not want either, and he did want — or, at any rate, he 
said so — to get to the bottom of a mystery which it had 
hitherto been beyond his capacity to solve. “ Would you 
mind telling me,” he asked, “why you turned your back 
upon me in London ? I hope it wasn’t because you 
thought me ungrateful in a political sense. I know you 
were kind enough to use your interest on my behalf, and 

I know how powerful your interest is ; but ” 

“ Oh, what a noodle you are ! ” interrupted Peggy, the 
color rising into her cheeks. “Who but you would have 
hit upon such a far-fetched notion as that I was out of 
temper with you for having trampled my modest.influence 
under foot ! You can’t have the confidence in your own 
merits that you ought to have, and you can have none 
whatsoever in mine, to talk that sort of nonsense. I'll 
answer your question, though I do rather mind answer- 
ing it, and though I do think it a curiously stupid one. I 
turned my back upon you simply because I was informed 
that some people were saying that you had been, seeing a 
little too much of my face. There ! — now you know all 
about it and if you like to burst out laughing, you have 
my full permission to laugh until you split your sides. 
Nevertheless, it remains true that I am not an old maid 
yet, and that you have seen fit to separate yourself'from 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


353 


your wife, and that gossip counts for something. I used 
to think that I despised gossip ; but I have advanced so 
far towards old-maidenhood now that I don’t care to 
brave it any longer.” 

Instead of laughing, Douglas looked very grave, and 
sighed. ‘ c I beg your pardon, ” said he. “ I ought to have 
thought of that, and I ought not to have been so stupid. 
The truth is that, until quite lately, I have always cherished 
a sort of hope — or at least a sort of expectation — that my 
wife would give in and return to me.” 

“ Oh, she’ll do that, if you will give her time.” 

“No; she has not the slightest intention of returning, 
and, since nobody hears us, I will confess that I haven’t 
the slightest wish that she should. The plain English of it 
all is that I have made a fool of myself and that I must 
bear the inevitable penalty. I am not going to whine ; 
only I wish it wasn’t a part of my penalty that our old 
friendship must come to an end.” 

Peggy had many very sensible remarks to make in con- 
travention of so gloomy a view. She pointed out the 
absurdity of concluding that a woman who has left her 
husband has necessarily ceased to love him*; she advised 
concessions and advances which Douglas decisively 
refused to grant, and she argued at considerable length 
upon the time-honored thesis that cutting off your nose to 
spite your face is a method of procedure which can neither 
benefit nor harm anybody, save the individual who chooses 
to adopt it. But she was put to silence when her com- 
panion told her in so many words that, whether his wife 
desired a separation or not, he did. 

By this time Douglas had fetched his horse from the 
stable-yard and was leading him down the avenue, while 
Miss Rowley walked beside her departing visitor. He said : 

“ I’m not to be pitied for being parted from a woman 
who never really cared for me and for whom, perhaps, I 
never really cared : it’s best as it is. But you may pity 
my loneliness, if you like, and, as I told you just now, I 
do think it rather hard lines that I should be compelled to 
give up my friends.” 

“Oh,” returned Peggy, with a short laugh, “that 
affliction isn’t likely to be permanent, so far as I am 
concerned. All I have to do is to marry, and then I shall 
be free to receive any friends who conduct themselves 
with ordinary discretion.” 


23 


354 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


Douglas was quite surprised to find how disagreeable 
this simple suggestion for thetremoval of a difficulty was 
to him. “Are you thinking of marrying, then? 3 ’ he 
asked, in a tone of voice which all his efforts could not 
deprive of harshness. 

‘ ‘ Miss Spofforth says it is high time that I thought of 
it,” answered Peggy, “and, all things considered, I am 
inclined to agree with her. Liberty is sweet ; but 
married women have as much liberty as girls nowadays ; 
in some respects they have even more. So perhaps I had 
better not delay much longer to make somebody happy.” 

“ H 3 m ! anybody in particular ? 33 

“One out of three or four, I think. There are certainly 
three who would do very nicely.” 

“ That is as much as to say that you don't love airy one 
of the three. Well, I must say that I am astonished. I 
should have thought that you were the last person in the 
world — quite the last — to tie yourself to a man whom you 
didn’t love. You may take my word for it that you will 
repent of your bargain if you do ; and I ought to know ! 33 

During the remainder of the walk to Miss Rowley's 
lodge Douglas did all the talking, and it must be said for 
him that he did it extremely well. Nobody could have 
depicted the folly and sin of entering upon matrimony 
without love in more glowing and convincing terms than 
he employed, nor could anybody have spoken with more 
perfect sincerity. He wished for nothing else — what else 
could he wish for? — than to restrain his friend from fall- 
ing into a grievous error ; it could make no difference to 
him personally whether she married or remained^ single ; 
and if, once or twice, the thought did cross his mind that 
he might have been less disinterested, but for the grievous 
error which he himself had pommitted, no such thought 
presented itself in distinct shape to him. Only the nature 
of the subject caused him to notice how pretty Peggy 
Rowley was, and to wonder that he had not noticed it 
before. 

She dismissed him with the valedictory remark that his 
sentiments, were unexceptionable, although they had not 
the fascination of originality. 

“We all know , 33 said she, “what marriage is in the 
ideal, and most of us know what it is in reality. I have 
lived so long and seen so much that I can dispense with 
realized ideals. So can Mr. Innes and Florence Carey and 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


355 


ninety-nine mortals out of any chance hundred. As for 
you, you are all right ; because you are going to be 
Prime Minister some, day, and as you won't be Prime 
Minister next year, or even ten years hence, you are 
comfortably provided for. Let us make the best of things 
as they are, and be as jolly as circumstances will allow 
us to be.” 

Douglas, before mounting his horse, deemed it needful 
to explain that circumstances did not admit of any great 
future jollity on his part. He likewise represented him- 
self in the light of a sad object-lesson, and even went so 
far as to hint that, if he could have recalled past years and 
made a fresh start, his ambition would have been of a very 
different kind from that ascribed to him. But Peggy did 
not appear to have the remotest comprehension *of his 
meaning. She thanked him for his sage counsels, promis- 
ing to give them due weight before she decided to fly in 
the face of them, and if, at the last moment, she permitted 
him to hold her hand rather longer than a mere friend and 
country neighbor would have been likely to do, that was 
only because he was not, and never could be, anything 
more than a mere friend and country neighbor to her. 

She did not recognize a gentleman on a bay horse who 
trotted past her immediately after Mr. Colborne had left, 
nor did she suspect that he had witnessed her leave-taking 
from her friend and had drawn hasty and inaccurate deduc- 
tions from what he had seen. The Marchese di Leonforte 
was quite the man to draw hasty and inaccurate deduc- 
tions ; but then the Marchese di Leonforte was not at all 
the man who could have been expected to be in Bucking- 
hamshire at that season of the year. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

LEONFORTE SMELLS A RAT. 

The epoch in which we live is remarkable chiefly for the 
facility of communication which it affords and the ease 
with which, not only this or that place, but the society of 
those who reside therein may be reached ; so that nobody 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


35 6 

is really unlikely to be encountered at any given spot or at 
any given time. The Marchese di Leonforte, for example, 
was not at all more unlikely to be met with at Burcote 
Hall than many other people to whom the hospitality of 
the noble owner had been extended, and, as a matter of 
fact, he was now staying there, although Lady Florence 
had not considered the circumstance worthy of mention 
during her stolen interview with Frank Innes. 

Leonforte had stayed in many country houses and had 
accumulated quite a large store of knowledge relating to the 
English aristocracy, its manners and its customs, since his 
departure from London. He had had what the younger 
members of that aristocracy, whose position corresponded 
to his own, would have called an uncommonly good time 
of it ; lie had yachted in the Solent ; he had shot grouse in 
Scotland and partridges in Norfolk ; he had been taken to 
race-meetings at Newmarket and Doncaster ; and his un- 
varying imperturbability had earned for him a very gen- 
eral and very liberal measure of regard. Certainly it had 
been no fault of his numerous entertainers that he had 
been extremly unhappy the whole time and that he had 
suffered from home-sickness in a most aggravated form of 
that complaint. Sicily is a mournful place of abode dur- 
ing the arid hot season, when all nature lies wrapped in a 
death-like sleep ; yet home is always home, and thither all 
poor, disenchanted human beings must needs turn their 
eyes longingly after the hope of earthly happiness has 
finally forsaken them. Leonforte, however, could not go 
home ; because he had a mission to accomplish before 
quitting northern latitudes, and he would never have been 
able to forgive himself, had he abandoned it, vague though 
his designs and prospects were. He gladly accepted the 
invitation with which Lady Burcote, having learnt that 
he was in the adjoining county, favored him ; for he was 
aware that Burcote Hall was situated within easy reach of 
the estates owned respectively by Mr. Colborne and Miss 
Rowley, and he was' anxious, in default of any more promis- 
ing plan to keep an eye upon those two enemies of his. 

He heard, without surprise and without much interest, 
the news that an alliance had been arranged between Lady 
Florence Carey and Lord Galashiels : from what Frank 
Innes had told him, he had assumed that to be a foregone 
couclusion, and hereditary prejudice forbade him to feel 
any great sympathy with a young man who could SO 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


357 


far forget himself as to dream of making money by sing- 
ing in places of public amusement. Still his curiosity was 
momentarily aroused when, '(having borrowed a horse out 
of his host’s stables and having inquired his way to Swin- 
ford Manor with some indefinite notion of taking prelimi- 
nary observations), he encountered Lady Florence driving 
homewards from the rendezvous that we know of. There 
was, of course, no reason in the world why the girl should 
not be exercising her ponies ; nor would he have suspected 
that she w r as out upon any unavowable errand if she had 
not blushed so vividly as she bowed to him. Unfortu- 
nately, she did blush, and she looked so guilty that no 
Italian of ordinary intelligence could have helped forming 
a pretty shrewd surmise as to what she had been about. 

Leonforte really did not care what she had been about ; 
it was nothing to him whether she had been meeting Frank 
Innes or some other forbidden admirer. But he made a 
mental note of the incident, just as a scavenger will pick 
up the most worthless of j etsam, upon the off-chance of 
its possessing some unforeseen value, and he amused him- 
self with idle speculations as to the meaning of Lady Flor- 
ence’s shamefaced aspect until she and her affairs were 
driven out of his mind by a much more significant spec- 
tacle, which it was his privilege to witness. 

He ought not to have been astonished, nor was he 
precisely astonished, to see Douglas Colborne and Miss 
Rowley standing, hand in hand, engagedin earnest conver- 
sation ; but, somehow or other, this confirmation of his 
conviction had the effect of making him angry. He dis- 
liked them both and did not want either of them to be 
happy ; but probably it was less on that account than be- 
cause he had a quarrel with the whole world that he was 
disgusted by the sight of such illicit philanderings. He 
himself had fallen in love with a married woman, which 
was doubtless a "sinful thing to do ; but he had been pun- 
ished by contemptuous dismissal from her house, and it 
seemed to him only fair and just that a similar punishment 
should be* meted out to others who were every whit as 
sinful as he. The worst sin that can be committed admits 
of being rendered more heinous when hypocrisy is super- 
added. At the bottom of his heart, moreover, there lurked 
a suspicion, which was half pleasant, half painful to him, 
that the Countess still believed in, if she did not positively 
love, her husband, and that a report of the little scene of 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


358 

which he had been a spectator would hurt her about as 
much as anything was likely to hurt her. He almost 
wished to see her again, if only to convey that report and 
to watch the result. It would be an inadequate revenge ; 
but it would be better than none. 

Evil passions had, as has been said, been stirred up in 
his heart ; but he had cooled down again before he returned 
to Burcote Hall. He was nothing if not patient ; he 
resolved to remain where he was and to keep his eyes and 
ears open, hoping that in process of time he would see or 
hear of something rather more compromising and con- 
clusive than an interview between two neighbors whom 
all the world knew to be friends. For some days his 
patience went unrewarded, neither Mr. Colborne’s name 
nor that of Miss Rowley being mentioned by any member 
of the house-party ; but one morning he was startled by 
the mention of another name which he could never hear 
without emotion. 

“The Countess Radna,” Lady Burcote told him, “has 
written to beg that I will let Florry spend ten days or a 
fortnight with her in Paris. Very kind of her, I’m sure — 
especially as she didn't notice Florry’s existence when she 
was in England, that I can remember. But she says she 
is always interested in girls who are engaged to be married, 
and it’s true that she did come down very handsomely 
at the time of her sister-in-law’s engagement to Colonel 
Percy. ” 

“The Countess Radna is well known for her kindness 
of heart and generosity,” observed Leonforte in his grave, 
monotonous voice. 

“Well, yes ; I believe she is. And she says something 
about shopping. Of course there are heaps of things which 
one can get in Paris and nowhere else, and it does sound 
rather like an opportunity which it would be a pity to let 
slip. I think I shall allow Florry to go.” 

It will be perceived that the Countess had not misjudged 
the light in which her invitation would probably be re- 
garded by Lady Florence’s mother, and indeed, 'to render 
assurance doubly sure, she had hinted in no obscure terms 
at her intention of selecting some suitable wedding-gift for 
the promised bride. 

Leonforte, conjecturing that there was more in this pro- 
ject than met the eye, and gathering from Lady Burcote’s 
interrogative tone that he was being indirectly consulted, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


359 


thought it best to say : “I am sure, madame, that vou 
may safely confide your charming daughter to the Count- 
ess's care.” 

Lady Burcote laughed and answered : “Oh, I am not 
afraid that Florry will be corrupted by the Countess, who, 
I have no doubt, is a paragon of virtue, though she doesn't 
seem to have hit it off with her husband. But perhaps 
that is because he is another paragon, and because two of 
a trade never agree. The only thing that surprises me is 
that she should be in Paris at this time of year. I thought 
nobody went to Paris in autumn.” 

Leonforte had also been under that impression, and he 
was inclined to doubt whether the Countess’s departure 
from the customs of fashionable society could be ac- 
counted for solely by the generosity and kindness of heart 
which he had affirmed to be notorious. Still, as he was 
unable to fathom her design and saw no reason why he 
should attempt to defeat it, he contented himself with 
taking some mental notes and repeating that the Count- 
ess Radim was, to the best of his belief, an unexcep- 
tionable chaperon. 

His faculties of observation being thus on the alert, he 
could not fail to be struck, during luncheon time, by a 
certain strangeness in Lady Florence's bearing. The girl 
was evidently excited, and a trifle apprehensive into the 
bargain. Her eyes were bright ; her cheeks were slightly 
flushed ; she talked more than usual"; and when the Mar- 
chese, by way of experiment, asked her whether she was 
looking forward to her visit to Paris, she replied that she 
supposed she would have to go, since she had been in- 
vited, but that it was rather a nuisance to have to take 
such a long journey — which was obviously disingenuous. 
Leonforte, in short, smelt a rat; and it so chanced that 
in the course of the afternoon an episode occurred which 
helped him to arrive at something very near a surmise of 
the truth. 

Everybody who has stayed in a country house has suf- 
fered from one of those dreadful drives to distant places 
of interest which it is so difficult to find any plausible ex- 
cuse for declining. Leonforte, being a foreigner, did not 
look as sad dnd sullen as we do under such circumstances, 
when he was made to take his place in a four-in-hand 
break, driven by Lord Burcote, and was dismissed for 
three hours in company with half-a-dozen people to whom 


360 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


he had nothing- at all to say ; but he felt the hopeless 
dreariness of his position quite as much as any true-born 
Briton could have done, and he was equally conscious of 
an overpowering inclination to fall asleep. Perhaps he 
would have fallen asleep, had not his senses been stirred 
into wakefulness by an encounter in a narrow lane with 
a dog-cart in which two gentlemen were seated. The 
lane was very narrow ; both vehicles were brought to a 
momentary standstill ; and so there was ample time to 
notice that the driver of the dog-cart, who took off-his hat 
and pulled his horse into the ditch, was no other than 
Mr. Colborne, while his companion, who shot an unmis- 
takably inquiring glance at Lady Florence, was beyond 
all doubt Frank Innes. Leonforte saw the glance; he 
saw Lady Florence’s blush — unhappily, the best bred 
people are those whose nerves are highly strung, whose 
circulation is quick and whose skins are thin — and he 
formed his own conclusions. He said nothing at the 
time; but, after dinner that evening, he remarked care- 
lessly to Lady Florence that he had thought Mr. Innes 
was still abroad. 

“He has come home, it seems,” answered the girl, 
avoiding her interlocutor’s eye. 

“Yes, it seems so. But he will not, perhaps, stay very 
long in England ? ” 

Lady Florence laughed nervously. “One can't dis- 
cover a person’s intentions by looking at him, can one?” 
said she ; “ and he allowed us no chance of hearing his 
voice this afternoon, you know. I daresay he will give 
you full information if you go over and call at Stoke 
Leighton. ” 

Leonforte was more than half inclined to adopt that 
suggestion ; but he merely remarked that he feared a 
visit from him might not be altogether welcome to Mr. 
Colborne : whereupon Lady Florence made an incoherent 
murmur and effected her escape. 

She fondly hoped that she had not betrayed herself; 
but, even though she should have done so, it was surely 
improbable that the Italian would go out of his way to 
serve her an unkind turn. She knew that he was upon 
friendly terms with Frank ; he was said to be, or to have 
been, upon something more than friendly terms with the 
Countess Radna; and he could have no motive for wish- 
ing to thwart the designs of both of them. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


361 


From these reflections Lady Florence took comfort, as 
' she journeyed, on the following day, towards London, 
Dover and Paris. She stood in need of all the comfort 
that she could give herself, because, to tell the truth, she 
was not a little alarmed at what she was doing. She 
had no lack of that species of courage which had always 
been one of the attributes of her family, which had led 
many male Careys to risk their lives in the battle-field or 
in the hunting-field and thoroughly enjoy the risk, while 
it had prompted not a few of their sisters to indulge in 
startling freaks of eccentricity ; but if, on alighting from 
the railway-carriage at the Paris terminus, she had been 
met by Lady Burcote, and if Lady Burcote had said, 

‘ Florence, walk round to the opposite platform, take 
your ticket and go straight home,” Florence would have 
obeyed at once. She would have been sorry for Frank 
and sorry for herself ; but she would not have so much 
as thought of showing fight. If, indeed, it had been 
within her capacity to fight her mother, Lord Galashiels 
would not at that moment have been complacently in- 
forming his friends in Scotland that he had “done it this 
time” and that he proposed to be “worked off” before 
the end of the year. 

Of course, however, Lady Burcote was not awaiting the 
arrival of the fugitive. Instead of her, a lady, enveloped 
in sables which the. Czarina herself might have envied, 
stepped forward as soon as the train came to a standstill, 
the Chef de gare and other bedizened officials keeping a 
passage clear for her, and Lady Florence, after having 
been warmly embraced, was conducted without delay to 
a comfortably cushioned coupe and whirled off towards 
the Avenue Friedland. Her maid and her luggage, she 
was told, would follow presently ; she would find all that 
she required for her immediate necessities on reaching her 
destination. People who affect to make light of the advan- 
tages of wealth are probably not very well acquainted 
with the annoyances of poverty ; while some of us, who 
are poor and don’t pretend to like being poor, might per- 
haps convince them of ingratitude to Provicfence if we 
could keep them kicking their heels for a good solid half- 
hour in that draughty waiting-room of the Paris Gare du 
Nord with the charms of which we are only too well 
acquainted. But that was far from being the lesson which 
the opulent Countess Radna desired to impress upon her 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


362 

companion. On the contrary, she wished Lady Florence 
to believe what, after all, is true enough, that there are 
many possessions infinitely more valuable than that of 
money, and that the love of a beloved fellow-being is 
unquestionably one of them. 

“You are very fortunate,’’ she said, as they drove 
through the brightly-lighted streets ; “I wish I were you ! 
Not that you won’t have to put up with some troubles 
and inconveniences ; but nothing that can be had without 
trouble and inconveniences is worth having at all. I am 
so glad you think Mr. Innes worth having ; because you 
really make no mistake in thinking that he is.” 

The girl murmured assent. “ I’m not afraid of trouble 
or inconveniences,” she remarked after a pause; “only 
I’m horribly afraid of being caught and dragged home 
ignominiously. If only the whole thing could be got 
through and done with to-morrow ! ” 

“Ah, that’s impossible; but I don’t think there is any 
need for you to be alarmed. All precautions have been 
taken. Besides, I have made up my mind to accomplish 
this marriage, and everybody who knows me would tell 
you that when I make up my mind to accomplish thing, 

I generally manage to be successful. ” 

Now, this was quite true, and it was not surprising that 
the Countess, who was really entitled to consider herself 
a very powerful personage, should have imagined that she 
could override certain legal provisions relating to the. 
marriage of British subjects abroad. She had partially 
informed herself of these, had found them to be vexatious, 
and had airily resolved that they must be dispensed with 
on the present occasion. Dispensations, she assumed, 
were always obtainable when asked for. by sufficiently 
exalted individuals : if any fuss was made, she would write 
a few lines to the English ambassador, who was tem- 
porarily absent from his post. That the English ambas- 
sador might not see his way to aiding and abetting a 
breach of the law did not strike her as a probable contin- 
gency. Does not an ambassador represent the person of 
his sovereign ? — and are not even constitutional sovereigns 
above the law ? 

Lady Florence, fortunately, did not require to be reas- 
sured upon points which had scarcely troubled her. On 
the other hand, she could not help wondering very much 
why her kind hostess should be taking such pains on her 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3^3 

behalf ; and, after an extremely artistic little teie a-tete din- 
ner, (for it was not every day that Bickenbach and Dr. 
Schott were invited to dine at their patroness’s table), she 
somewhat brusquely avowed her perplexity. 

“I’m afraid it sounds awfully ungrateful,” said she; 
“but I wish you wouldn’t mind telling me what it all 
means. It seems so funny that you should care, oneway 
or the other.” 

“I don’t wonder at your thinking it funny,” answered 
the Countess, with a good-humored smile ; “ but in reality 
I have several motives, not one of which has the smallest 
claim upon your gratitude. To begin with, I am honestly 
fond of Frank Innes, who has always struck me as the 
best specimen of an English gentleman that I have had 
the luck to encounter. Then I have a desire — a super- 
stitious desire, if you like — to feel that I have done at 
least one good deed before I die.” 

Here she came to such a protracted pause that Lady 
Florence remarked at length : “You will have time to 
perform several thousands of good deeds before then, I 
should think.” 

“I am afraid not. Everything leads me to believe that 
I have a mortal disease which may carry me off in a 
couple of months and which certainly won’t spare me for 
another couple of years. I don’t want to talk about that, 
though ; because it is a disagreeable subject. I was go- 
ing to say that I have a third motive — an ignoble, but 
perhaps not an unnatural one. My husband, as you may 
be. aware, professes also to have a great affection for his 
cousin ; he patronizes the young man in his sensible, im- 
maculate way ; he means to do all sorts of fine things for 
him eventually, if he behaves himself ; but he wouldn’t 
raise his little finger to help him to the one thing that he 
wants, because young men never know what is good for 
them. Well, such is my malignity that I look forward 
with a good deal of pleasure to the shock that my sensible, 
immaculate husband will receive when he hears of Frank s 
marriage.” 

Lady Florence stared. “ But do you really think,” she 
asked wonderingly, “that it will make so very much 
difference to Mr. Colborne ? ” 

“For Heaven’s sake, don’t try to persuade me that it 
won’t ! Would you deprive me of my strongest incentive 
to benevolence ? You would have shown more tact if, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


3*M 

instead of saying that, you had pointed out that it can’t 
make very much difference to me whether Mr. Colborne 
is pleased or displeased.” 

“Ah, but I have no tact,” answered the girl; “I’m 
utterly devoid of it. Mamma and my sisters and my 
governesses have always told me so.” 

“ Never mind ; you are better off, perhaps, with honesty 
and that kind of bluntness which nobody objects to when 
it is practiced by a woman whose face is as pretty as 
yours. Now I am going to send you off to bed ; for my 
doctor makes me keep^early hours, and you must be dead 
tired after your journey.” 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

PATERNAL AUTHORITY. 

Leonforte, after he had witnessed Lady Florence’s de- 
parture for France, did not deem it advisable to act upon 
her thoughtful suggestion that he should call at Stoke 
Leighton, with a view to obtaining information at first 
hand as to Frank Innes’s intentions. All things consid- 
ered, the information which he had already received seemed 
to him to be almost precise enough for practical purposes : 
besides which, he had a strong disinclination to hold any 
further parley with Mr. Colborne. He wanted, however, 
to see Frank, and a brief examination of time-tables led 
him to conclude that that young man would leave the 
neighborhood by the 3.20 p.m. train for London, so as to 
dine comfortably at his club before taking the night-mail 
to Paris. People who are flying from the country with 
surreptitious matrimonial designs do not, he reasoned, 
commit the imprudence of travelling together, while 
neither is likely to be guilty of the discourtesy of keeping 
the other waiting longer than is necessary ; and the 
accuracy of his judgment was proved by the fact that he 
had not been loitering for a quarter of an hour in the 
vicinity of the station adjoining Stoke Leighton, that 
afternoon when the man for whom he was waiting drove 
up in a dog-cart, jumped down, tipped the groom and 
handed his belongings over to a porter. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


365 

Leonforte hastened to step forward, and was received, 
as he. had expected to be, with feigned surprise and ill- 
disguised annoyance. There was not much time to be 
lost -; so he disposed in a few words of Frank’s perfunctory 
queries and said boldly : 

“ I trust you have not told any one about this scheme of 
the Countess Radna’s. It is a dangerous and difficult 
scheme, Mr. Innes, and you cannot be too careful to keep 
it a secret. ” 

Frank started, but fell into the trap instantly and un- 
suspectingly. “ Oh, you’ve heard of it from her, then ? ” 
said he. “Yes, it’s a bit risky of course ; but it was our 
only chance, and I believe we shall pull through now. I 
haven't told Douglas, if that’s what you mean, nor any- 
body else either. How could you think I should be such 
an ass ! Did the Countess tell you to keep an eye upon 
me ? ” 

Leonforte smiled. “You are sometimes a little impru- 
dent,” he answered, with judicious evasion ; “the Countess 
may be pardoned if she has felt some natural anxiety. 
The marriage, I presume, will take place as soon as you 
reach Paris?” 

_“ O, dear, no ; there are lots of bothering formalities to 
go through. As far as I can make out, we shall have to 
wait three weeks or a month. But that will be all right ; 
because Lady Florence will be staying with the Countess, 
you know, and her people aren’t so fond of her that they 
would mind if she remained away for a couple of months. 
Hullo ! here comes the train. Well, good-bye, old chap. 
See you again some day, I hope. ” 

Leonforte, as he turned away, after bidding adieu to 
this singularly ingenuous youth, thought to himself, with 
a grim smile, that they would probably meet again rather 
sooner than one of them expected or desired. He meant 
to betray the ingenuous youth, and he had no scruples of 
conscience whatsoever about so doing. Different na- 
tions have different codes respecting honor and morality. 
Had Frank spontaneously confided his secret to his Italian 
friend, the latter would have allowed himself to be cut in 
pieces before he would have revealed it to any human 
being : as it was, he considered himself perfectly free to 
make any use he pleased of facts which had come to his 
knowledge through his own dexterity ; and he proposed to 
utilize them for the discomfiture of the Countess Radna. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


366 

The scheme was her scheme, and that was a more than 
sufficient reason for wrecking it. When it should have 
been wrecked, he and she would still not be quits — far 
from it ! — yet he would have done something, however 
little, towards paying off the heavy debt that he owed her. 
As for Frank Innes and Lady Florence Carey, it is to be 
feared that he did not trouble his head much about them. 
When all was said, they were subordinate personages. 
Insubordinate too, for the matter of that, and upon general 
grounds deserving of any chastisement that might befall 
them. It is not necessary to be an illogical Sicilian in 
order to appreciate the immense distinction which exists 
between one’s own love affairs and those of one’s 
' neighbors. 

Congratulating himself, therefore, upon the prospect that 
his long period of inaction was at last about to be broken, 
the Marchese returned to Burcote Hall, and, meeting his 
host upon the staircase shortly before the dinner-hour, took 
that opportunity to request a few minutes of private con- 
versation. 

“Upon my word ! ” exclaimed Lord Burcote, after he 
had conducted the informer into his study and had listened 
to a statement the substantial accuracy of which seemed 
to be beyond question. He added a few ejaculations of 
a somewhat more forcible description, and then,, observed 
briefly : “ I must put a stop to this. I shall run across to 
Paris to-morrow and bring my daughter back with me.” 

Leonforte intimated by a grave bow that that measure 
would, in his opinion, be a wise one to adopt ; after which 
he took the liberty to propose himself as a travelling com- 
panion. “For I also,” said he, “intend to leave for Paris 
to-morrow. ” 

“Indeed ? ” returned Lord Burcote, glancing sharply and 
somewhat suspiciously at the other for a moment. “I 
don’t quite see the necessity for that. ” 

“Private and personal affairs, which require my atten- 
tion ” 

“Of course — of course, my dear fellow: I beg your 
pardon, I’m sure ; one is apt to forget, when such con- 
founded things as this happen, that other people may have 
private and personal affairs. And really I’m very much 
indebted to you for your prompt information. Not that 
such a cracked-brained plot could possibly have succeeded, 
or have been kept secret from us ; but one naturally wishes 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


367 

to put the extinguisher upon it before the Embassy people 
and the parson and half a dozen others are let into the 
secret You can understand how very important it is that 
the secret should be kept, and you will add infinitely to 
the obligation under which you have already placed me'if 
you will keep it.” 

Leonforte hastened to assure the anxious parent that 
Lady Florence’s escapade should never be mentioned by 
him to any one, save to those who were concerned in it. 

“Thank you very much. And perhaps you’ll be so 
kind as to say nothing even to Lady Burcote. It’s quite a 
case of least said soonest mended, you see ; and no ques- 
tions will be asked about my going over toFrance, because 
I often do go there for a day or two to look at horses and 
that sort of thing.' You’re not a family man, or you would 
know what a nuisance domestic rows are ; and although 
Florry has behaved like a perfect idiot, I don’t want tp be 
harder upon her than I can help. That singing fellow 
must be an average fool too ; but, if I may be permitted to 
say so, your friend the Countess Radna appears to me to 
be by far the biggest fool of the lot.” 

“I do not think that the Countess is a fool,” said Leon- 
forte, who, for some reason which he would have been 
puzzled to explain, resented that description of his enemy. 

“Well, well ! She’s a woman, at all events ; and that’s 
why I shall take devilish good care not to tell her what I 
think of her. In the course of my life,” added Lord Bur- 
cote, with a retrospective smile, “I have had some little 
experience of women, and I will make so bold as to affirm 
that you ought never , under any circumstances, to let 
them know what you really think of them. You may 
flatter them outrageously or you may abuse them outrage- 
ously ; but if you let them have the plain, unvarnished 
truth, by George, they’ll make you wish you had held your 
tongue before they’ve done with you ! ” 

Lord Burcote was so pleased with this astute and concise 
appreciation o-f feminine characteristics that he went up- 
stairs to dress for dinner chuckling cheerfully, notwith- 
standing all the good reasons that he had for being seri- 
ously angry. He did not ignore the gravity of the contre- 
temps which had occurred ; he knew as well as anybody 
that a secret which is already shared by at least five indi- 
viduals must become public property in the long run and 
he doubted very much whether Lord Galashiels was the 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


368 

man to marry a girl who had attempted to run away and 
marry someone else ; but he was naturally good-humored 
and courageous, while observation of life and humanity 
had rendered him a trifle cynical. It was certain that 
Florry would have to return home with him ; it was equally 
certain that she would thankfully second his efforts to keep 
her mother in the dark ; and, for the rest, one could but 
trust to luck. Luck had sometimes favored Lord Burcote 
and sometimes deserted him : like Napoleon III. after 
Reichshoffen, and perhaps with rather more justification 
than that hapless potentate, he murmured to himself, 
‘‘Tout peut se reparer.” 

As he had anticipated, his announcement that he had 
“heard something'' which would necessitate his crossing 
the Channel aroused no comment in the family circle ; 
for he was constantly hearing of something connected 
with turf matters which entailed sudden journeys. As 
for fhe Marchese di Leonforte, nobody in the house cared 
a straw whether he went or stayed ; and in truth his visit 
had been quite as long as his hostess had intended it to be. 

Without let or hindrance, therefore, these two ministers 
of destiny set forth to accomplish their task, and, on 
reaching the French capital, took up their quarters at the 
Hotel Bristol ; for Lord Burcote, like the generality of 
men who have no money to throw away, scorned petty 
economies. His lordship, knowing that there was no 
hurry, rose late on the following morning, looked in at 
two clubs of which he was a member, lunched with a 
French fellow-sportsman whom he encountered at one of 
them, and in the afternoon had himself driven to the 
Countess Radna’s residence, where, as need scarcely be 
said, he was refused admittance. For this preliminary 
rebuff, however, he had been prepared ; so he merely 
sent in his card a second time, with a thousand apologies 
for his importunity, which, he said, would have been 
inexcusable,- had it not been a matter of sheer necessity 
that he should see the Countess for five minutes. He 
would endeavor not to intrude upon her for more than 
five minutes. 

Immediately afterwards he was conducted into the 
presence of his Liir antagonist, whose reception of him 
was gracious and amiable in the extreme. 

“My dear Lord Burcote,” she cried, “ I am horrified to 
hear that you were nearly turned away from the door! 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 3 6 9 

The truth is that I am not very well and that I am not 
receiving- visitors. I could not divine that you were in 
Paris, could I ? And Lady Burcote— is she with you ? ” 

Lord Burcote laughed. As has been said before, he 
was a good-humored man, and he was tickled by an 
underlying inflection of anxiety which he detected in the 
Countess’s tone. 

“I am thankful to say that she is not.” he replied. 
“ Perhaps I may venture to assume that you also are 
thankful for that mercy ? Because, although you could 
not have divined that I was in Paris, I am sure you must 
divine now what has brought me here, and I have no 
doubt that you agree with me in disliking noisy and 
unnecessary scenes. Far be it from me to load you with 
reproaches, Madame la Comtesse ; I will only beg you to 
be so kind as to let my daughter know that I have come 
for her. and that she will accompany me presently to th6 
Hotel Bristol.” 

The Countess, as soon as her visitor’s card had been 
brought to her, had of course prepared herself to do 
battle ; but she had not expected a mode of attack at 
once so courteous and so peremptory, and she was 
momentarily disconcerted. “ I suppose I may thank Mr. 
Colborne for this ; I might have known that that silly 
boy would betray himself to his cousin ! ” she exclaimed. 

“I am not aware of his having done so, and I sin- 
cerely trust that he hasn’t ; though I quite agree with 
you that he is silly enough for anything. To be sure, he 
seems to have had advisers who were — well, let us 
say, not remarkable for excessive wisdom. Fortunately, 
one of them — your Italian protege , Leonforte — was sane 
enough to come to me and tell me what was up. 1 need 
scarcely add that I shall keep my own counsel about this 
ridiculous affair, and I venture to hope that you and 
young .Innes will be- equally discreet. Because, really, 
you know, it reflects little credit upon the intelligence of 
any of the persons concerned in it. Now, if you will be 
so good as to send for Florry, I will not intrude upon you 
much longer.” 

‘ ‘ And suppose I decline to obey your orders, Lord 
Burcote ? ” 

“ My dear lady, you can’t ! I have an absolute right 
to the custody of my daughter, and you must be aware 
that I shall insist upon my right. Surely you do not 


37 ° 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


wish to cover yourself and me with ridicule by compel- 
ling me to invoke the assistance of the police ! ” 

The Countess set her teeth and tapped the floor angrily 
with her foot. “That cowardly, treacherous Sicilian ! ” 
she exclaimed. 

4 4 I am not here to defend him, ” observed Lord Burcote, 
with a smile; “you may wring his neck, for anything 
that I care. Only I wouldn't be too hard upon him, if I 
were you ; because he has really rendered you, as well 
as us, a service. Your plan of marrying off my daughter 
without my consent was preposterously impracticable, 
and I am glad you don’t know it, because that shows 
that you haven’t yet taken the preliminary steps. Had 
you done so, Royston would at once have telegraphed to 
me, the whole story would have been sure to get into the 
newspapers, and for the next month or more we should have 
been the laughing-stock of all England. No ! I think you 
must not be so ungrateful as to quarrel with your Sicilian.” 

“I am not convinced,” returned the Countess, “that 
things would have fallen out in the manner that you de- 
scribe ; but we will not waste time in discussing what 
might have been. What has happened is that we have 
been betrayed and that you are here to claim your daugh- 
ter. Lord Burcote, neither you nor I are religious people. 
I cannot believe in Christianity, and you, I should imag- 
ine, are postponing the consideration of theological creeds 
until your death-bed, when they will cease to be incon- 
venient. Still, I suppose we both have principles of a 
kind ; right and wrong are not absolutely meaningless 
words to us ; we admit that certain proceedings are dis- 
graceful. Doesn’t it strike you as a disgraceful proceed- 
ing to force a daughter of yours into the arms of a man 
whom she hates so much that she has run away from him, 
and to drag her away by main force from a man whom 
you know that she loves ? ” 

Lord Burcote widened out his mouth and thrust his chin 
forward, as his habit was when any man or woman tried 
to steal a march upon him. 44 You must excuse me,” he 
replied, 44 if I remind you that the responsibility of con- 
ducting my family affairs rests solely upon my own 
shoulders, which are, I believe, broad enough to sustain 
the burden. You may rest assured that I shall do just 
exactly what I think fit to do.” 


TIIE COUNTESS RADNA . 


37 1 

The Countess cast a scornful glance at him, and, with- 
out making any rejoinder, rang the bell. The servant 
who appeared in answer to her summons took a message 
from her to Lady Florence, and presently the girl entered 
the room, looking very pale and frightened. Her protect- 
ress stepped up to her side, before Lord Burcote could 
utter a word, and said : 

“My dear, your father has heard everything and has 
come here to take you home. He asserts that the law 
gives him power and authority over you — which is true, 
I believe. But there is no reason for you to. surrender, 
provided that you have the courage to tell him that you 
will not leave me and that you will marry themafi whom 
you have chosen. He talks of calling in the police ; but 
he is far too much afraid of ridicule to have recourse to 
such methods. I promise you, in his presence, that I 
will make it my business to provide you and your hus- 
band with an income which will at least free him from the 
obligation of settling a single centime upon you. All you 
have to say is that you refuse to stir : then we shall see 
what will happen next.” 

But alas ! poor Lady Florence’s valor was not equal to 
the demand made upon it. She thought of Frank, whom 
she had seen that morning and whose sanguine spirit had 
buoyed up her own for the time being ; she thought of 
the odious Galashiels, whose wife she inwardly vowed 
that she never could and never would become ; she tried 
hard to believe that the Countess was right and that she 
had but to assert herself in order to conquer ; yet, some- 
how or other, she could not bring herself to say what she 
wished to say ; and when, after an helpless and appeal- 
ing glance at her father, whose countenance remained 
impassive, she opened her lips at length, it was only to 
gasp out feebly : 

“ Does mamma know ? ” 

Lord Burcote rose and advanced. * ‘ Heaven be praised, ” 
he replied, “your dear mother is still in blissful ignorance 
of all this ; and in ignorance she shall remain. I promise 
you that ; and it seems to me that my promise is a rather 
more practical one than the Countess Radna’s. Come, 
my dear girl, you know very well that I don’t enjoy bully- 
ing you ; but — what can’t be cured must be endured. If 
I were to talk from now till midnight, I could not put 


37 2 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


the case more truthfully or more convincingly. Come 
with me you must ; and I do hope you will have the sense 
to come without making a fuss about it. ” 

“ I cannot marry Lord Galashiels/’ said Lady Florence, 
with tremulous firmness. 

“ Very well, my dear ; you and your mother and Gala- 
shiels must settle that question among you. I never in- 
sisted upon your marrying the man. But I do forbid you 
to marry young Innes, and I venture to prophesy that 
you will live to thank me for having exercised my right 
of veto as regards him. ” 

The girl shook her head. 

“Well, at all events, you will live to thank me for hav- 
ing shown some discrimination in getting you out of an 
uncommonly awkward hole. It will be all right at home : 
we will say that you didn’t like Paris, or that your hospi- 
table entertainer was unwell — I very much regret to hear 
from her that she is unwell — or this, or that, or t’other. 
But we won’t tell the truth.” 

Ten minutes later Lady Florence had quitted the 
Avenue Friedland with her father. Her boxes were to be 
sent after her to the Hotel Bristol, and she would start for 
England either that night or on the following morning, 
Lord Burcote announced. The Countess was very angry ; 
but what was the use of being angry ? She was not even 
sure that there would be any great use in delivering a 
message with which she had been entrusted at the last 
moment. 

“Tell Frank, ” Lady Florence had whispered, “ that I 
can’t help deserting him now, but that I will never marry 
anybody else. Perhaps he won’t believe me after my 
having accepted Lord Galashiels once ; but he may safely 
believe me, all the same. ” 


373 




; '• . 

THE COUNTESS RADNA-. 



CHAPTER XLV. 

SANITY AND LUNACY. 

• 

It had been arranged that Frank Innes should dine, that 
evening, with the Countess and his betrothed ; and at the 
appointed hour he arrived, to find only one of these ladies 
seated beside the crackling wood-fire, into which she was 
gazing, while she held a thin, white hand up to the blaze. 
She did not turn her head as he drew near, or she would 
have noticed that he was looking somewhat perturbed ; he 
also might have been struck by the despondency expressed 
in her attitude, had not his attention been otherwise en- 
gaged. 

“ I say, ” he began, before she could speak, “ Fm afraid 
there’s going to be more bother about this business than 
we thought for. I’ve been to the Chancery and seen Lind- 
say, who is left in charge just now, and he scouts the idea 
of a marriage without full publicity. He says we couldn’t 
possibly carry such a thing through unless we perjured 
ourselves — and most likely not then. What is to be 
done ?” 

The Countess shrugged her shoulders slightly. “ I have 
no suggestion to offer,” she replied ; “ the control of events 
has been taken out of my hands, as I will explain to you 
presently, and I can’t tell you what to do. But if it will 
give you any satisfaction to hear what you ought not to 
have done, I can easily tell you that. In the first place, 
you ought not to have taken Mr. Lindsay into your 
confidence.” 

“ But I didn’t ! I had to make inquiries of somebody, 
you know, and I mentioned no names. Of course I had 
to tell him that the lady was a minor, because that was 
one of the first things that he asked.” 

“Mr. Lindsay is an inquisitive young man. With the 
clue that you have given him he will soon find out all 


374 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


that he wants to know, and you may be sure that he will 
not keep such a good story to himself. That, however, 
concerns Lord and Lady Burcote more than it does you or 
me, and perhaps, as you say, it was necessary to consult 
somebody. But it certainly was not necessary that you 
should reveal your plans to the Marchese di Leonforte — 
of all people in the world ! ” 

‘ ‘ Leonforte ? Why, I thought it was you who had told 
him ! I only saw him for a minute or two at the railway- 
station, and I can't remember exactly what passed ; but I 
am sure he gave me to understand that he had heard all 
about it from you.” 

“He deceived you, then, and I think, if I were in your 
place, I should feel that I had a score to settle with that 
man ; for he has played you a shabby trick. He must 
have gone and given information immediately after you 
left ; because Lord Burcote called here this 'afternoon to 
demand the restitution of his daughter, and his daughter 
appears to have felt that the legal position of the petitioner 
was unassailable. At all events she made no resistance.” 

Frank dropped down upon a chair, opening his eyes 
wide in consternation. “ Do you mean to say that Florry 
has gone ? ” he ejaculated. 

“Oh, yes ; she has gone. Her father insisted, and, as 
I tell you, she didn't resist.” 

“ And you let her go ! ” 

“ Am I a female brigand or a sorceress, to detain peo- 
ple under my roof, whether they will or no ? I used such 
poor powers of persuasion as I possess ; I tried to make 
the girl see that she might exact rather better terms from 
her father than he chose to offer her ; but I might as well 
have held my tongue. She left a message for you : I was 
to say that she couldn’t help abandoning you this time, 
but that she would never marry anybody else. No doubt 
she spoke sincerely. ” 

There was a pause of a few seconds ; after which Frank 
sighed and remarked, “Ah, well ! I never did feel much 
confidence in the success of this scheme of yours, you 
know. You meant kindly, and I’m awfully obliged to 
you for — for all that you’ve done for me ; but ” 

“ But you would have been still more obliged if I 
had had sense enough to mind my own business ? ” 

“Oh, no ; I don’t say that. Of course I’m sorry, and of 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


375 

course I wish we hadn't attempted impossibilities ; because, 
for one thing, I’m afraid poor Florry will have a bad time 
of it with her mother ” 

“ Her mother," interrupted the Countess, “is not to be 
told. That is, she will not be told by her husband or her 
daughter, who seefn to be quite as much afraid of the 
woman as you are. It is true that Mr. Lindsay or some 
of his friends may see fit to enlighten her." 

“Oh, Lindsay is a good chap ; he won’t split," answered 
Frank confidently. “Well, it’s a great relief to hear that 
old Burcote doesn’t mean to betray us. And, after all," he 
added, presently, “ it’s only a case of ‘ As you were ! ’ 
Indeed, it’s better than that ; for I’m sure Florry will break 
off her engagement to Galashiels now." 

“ So that a sensation of relief, everything considered, is 
what you actually experience," observed the Countess. “ I 
congratulate you upon your philosophy, though I can’t 
pretend to be educated up to the point of admiring it. 
You English have no blood in your veins ; you talk about 
being in love, but you don't really understand the mean- 
ing of the word. Courage you may have — one can’t deny 
you that, because you have so often shown that you know 
how to fight — only it isn’t the sort of courage to make any 
one enthusiastic about you. Wasn’t it Napoleon who said 
that you didn’t know when you were beaten ? He never 
could have said that if he had had to deal with you in a 
social, instead of a military, capacity ! As for me, I have 
done with you. I can’t help people who won’t help them- 
selves, and it is some comfort to know that neither your 
appetite nor your sleep will be interfered with by any 
mishaps that may fall to your lot." 

“But what would you have me do ?” asked Frank, 
reasonably enough. 

“I have told you already that I have no suggestion to 
offer. You recognize the force of facts, and so does Lady 
Florence — -Jevous en fais mon compliment ! 'Personally, I 
should have liked you better if you had been a little more 
agitated ; but that is a mere question of personal taste. 
Shall we go and eat our dinner now? I am happy to think 
that I may offer that humble suggestion without any fear 
of scandalizing you." 

It must be confessed that Frank’s agitation did not de- 
prive him of all capacity for swallowing food; yet in the 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


37 6 

course of the next two hours he did manage to convince 
the irate Countess that he was less insensible than she had 
accused him of being. Her anger, indeed, was to some ex- 
tent a cloak for self-censure ; she could not but be conscious 
of his magnanimity in abstaining from the utterance of a 
word of reproach against her, and sheTiad to acknowledge 
a certain grandeur in his quiet determination to go on 
hoping while he worked for his living. 

‘ ‘ All that is very pretty and very praiseworthy, ” she said 
at length ; “ but I can’t sympathize with you, because you 
are patient and because I am impatient. When all is said, 
you are not to blame for having been born an inhabitant 
of a very chilly island. So, then, you propose to go quiet- 
ly off to Milan, as if nothing had happened, to cultivate 
your voice and to trust to the powers above to befriend 
you at the proper moment ? ” 

‘‘Yes, I think so,” answered Frank. “You see, I 
could do no good by returning to England, and Douglas 
would want to know what I meant by it, if I did. In spite 
of what you say and hint, I believe Florry will remain 
true to me : I shouldn’t help her, and I might get her into 
trouble, by attempting to see her again just now.” 

“You speak like the juvenile Solomon that you are : 
may you reap the just reward of your moderation in due 
season ! One doesn’t quite understand you ; but one is 
able, with a slight effort, to esteem you. ” 

After he had bidden her farewell she said to herself, “ I 
shall leave him a fortune : that will be his only chance ; 
and if the girl is worth anything and keeps her word, he 
ought to win with it. Because, even supposing that this 
story doesn’t leak out, her value in the marriage-market 
will be a good deal depreciated by her rupture with the 
manufacturing lord, and Lady Burcote will think twice 
before turning her back upon .a commoner as rich as 
Frank will be. So I shall accomplish my qnique good 
deed, in spite of all, though I shall not witness the 
accomplishment of it. The misfortune is that Schott 
may keep me alive for several years yet.” 

But that was not Dr. Schott’s belief or expectation. 
Excitement and disappointment had made his patient 
feverish, and she passed such a bad night that he would 
not let her leave her bed on the following morning. 
Although no explanation of Lady Florence Carey’s sudden 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


377 


arrival and equally sudden departure had been vouchsafed 
to him, he was not in much doubt as to what had occurred ; 
but, true to his recently adopted system, he abstained 
from remonstrance or dictation, merely remarking that he 
supposed the Countess had now no special reason for 
lingering in the north of Europe. 

“ I have no special reason for hurrying to the south,” 
she answered, rather pettishly. “ That is, unless it is true, 
as I think I have heard, that consumptive people die more 
easily in warm than in cold climates. Is that the case ? ” 

The Doctor’s guttural responsive laugh and gruff asser- 
tion that when he took people to the south it was to cure 
them, not to kill them, did not deceive her. The worthy, 
heavy-handed man meant well, but he was no adept in 
the art of deception. So, then, she was to die, and to 
die soon. Dr. Schott knew it, and she herself knew it, 
and there was nothing to grumble about, since she had 
made up her mind that this world had no attractions left 
for her. Nevertheless, it seemed hard. Probably it 
always does seem hard ; although statistics show that 
suicides are upon the increase. The Countess, as she lay 
in bed, thinking of many things, was conscious of a 
clinging to existence which distressed and irritated her. 
She was not afraid of death, which is the universal destiny, 
and which no one, except a superstitious coward, ought 
to dread ; her disappearance from earthly scenes would, 
she presumed, entail no suffering upon her, while it 
would be productive of substantial advantages to others. 
Consequently, her reluctance to disappear must be due to 
some lingering and perfectly absurd hope of earthly hap- 
piness. It was when she arrived at that logical conclusion 
that she found it impossible to lie in bed any longer and 
rang for her maid. 

She was sitting in her boudoir, a few hours later, doing 
nothing at all and wishing that somebody — no matter who 
— would come and talk to her, when her major-domo 
brought her a card, upon which was inscribed the name 
of the Marchese di Leonforte. The gentleman, she was 
told, had been informed that the Countess was unwell, 
but had persisted, notwithstanding that intimation, in 
requesting admittance, and she granted his request with 
alacrity. 

“By all means bring him in,” said she ; and she added, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3 7 8 

under her breath, “ Perhaps he will wish, before he goes 
away, that I had not been so complaisant.” 

Leonforte stalked into the room with a gloomy, tragic 
air at which she did not refuse herself the satisfaction of 
laughing aloud. 

“ I thought, ” said she, ‘ £ that I was never to see your 
face again. Wasn't that the punishment with which you 
threatened me when you made your last impressive exit ? 
But perhaps you feel capable of pardoning me now that 
you have achieved such a chivalrous victory over me, and 
perhaps you have come to enjoy your triumph. Is 
that it ? ” 

“Madame,” replied Leonforte, “the last time that I 
had the honor of visiting you, you called me an uncivilized 
Italian bully.” 

“ Parfaitement. I remember using the words, and I 
regret to add that nothing has occurred since then to make 
me alter my opinion. Won’t you sit down ? I haven’t 
altered my opinion ; still, I confess that your recent con- 
duct has revealed you to me in a rather new light. Per- 
haps I ought to have known that all bullies are mean ; but, 
somehow or other, I did not imagine that you were mean 
enough to stab a man who had never injured you in the 
back, in order to avenge yourself upon a woman whom 
you had insulted. All this, however, helps to make you 
a fascinating study. What more can I do to draw you 
out, I wonder ? Would it please you to hear that you 
have enraged me by foiling me ? I make you welcome 
to that information.” 

The Marchese was white with anger ; but he controlled 
his wrath and his voice. “ I do not think it is true that I 
ever insulted you, Madame laComtesse,” he replied. “ It 
is certainly true that you insulted me, and if I have 
enraged you by defeating your plans, I am not sorry for 
it. That, in truth, was what I hoped to do. But you are 
mistaken in thinking that I have come to Paris to enjoy 
the spectacle of your discomfiture.” 

“Am I ? Well, it is only fair to admit that you do not 
look as if you were enjoying yourself. What has procured 
me this unexpected pleasure, then ? Couldn’t you live 
without seeing me ? ” 

“Ah,” exclaimed the Italian, wincing, as if he had 
received a physical wound, “you are brutal!” He 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


379 

paused for a moment, and then continued: "Listen, 
Madame la Comtesse ; 1 do not know whether I love you 
or whether I hate you ; I see by your eyes that you think 
I love you still, and it may be that you are right — I do not 
know! But this I know, that if I can inflict any pain 
upon you, in return for all the pain that you have given 
me, I will inflict it joyfully. All through these long 
months I have been thinking and thinking — it is possible 
that I am quite wrong ; for you have been false with me 
from the very beginning — but the conclusion to which I 
have come at last is that, if you love anybody in the 
world, you love your husband. ” 

"Oh, that is the conclusion to which you have come? ” 
said the Countess composedly. " Apres ? ” 

He scrutinized her pale face keenly ; but could detect 
no symptom of emotion there. " Your husband/’ he 
resumed, " does not love you, and he does love that Miss 
Rowley of whom, I think, you used only to pretend to be 
jealous. I know that he loves her, because I surprised 
them together one evening in England not long ago, and 
what I saw left no room for doubt. Ah,” he cried, exult- 
antly, as a sudden flush overspread the Countess’s cheeks, 
" I was not wrong, then ! You do love him, and I am 
avenged ! ” 

"We are not at the Porte Saint-Martin,” remarked the 
Countess, whose discomposure had been only momentary. 
" That speech might have been effective if it had been 
addressed to an audience of several hundreds ; but upon 
the ears of a single listener it falls a little flat. For the 
rest, it would be cruel to grudge you your revenge — such 
as it is. It would be more complete and more satisfactory 
to you, no doubt, if I did not happen to be dying ; but, if 
you care to consult my doctor, he will tell you that I am 
not far off death ; and, since that is so, my husband’s 
affaires de cceur cannot affect me very profoundly. Let it 
be admitted that I love him and that, as you say, I only 
pretended to be jealous of Miss Rowley : what does all 
that matter now ? ” 

Leonforte was horrorstuck. " Dying ! ” he exclaimed — 
"oh, no, not dying ! You do not mean what you say !— 
it is impossible ! ” 

"It is the truth. I have no longer any illusion upon 
the subject, and what you have just been kind enough to 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


38° 

tell me has helped to reconcile me to my fate. So, if you 
consider that you have paid me out, we may part friends, 
after all.” 

It is always a hard matter to tell what influence any 
given incident or announcement may exercise upon so 
curiously complex a being as an educated Italian of the 
present day. Leonforte, one would have thought, ought 
not to have cared very much whether a woman who had 
treated him as the Countess Radna had done lived or died ; 
but he did care. Gazing earnestly at her, he saw in her 
clear, transparent complexion, her wasted fingers and her 
sunken eyes, with the dark semi-circles beneath them, the 
confirmation of what she had stated to be the truth, and, 
seeing this, he was overwhelmed by a rush of sorrow and 
remorse. He fell upon his knees beside her and poured 
forth incoherent entreaties for pardon, accompanied by pro- 
posals which, to tell the truth, were extravagant enough 
to justify the smile with which she listened to them. He 
had been mad — so he averred — to imagine that he could 
hate her ; he adored her, and his adoration was so disin- 
terested that he was ready to do anything on earth that 
she might command him to do, rather than let her suc- 
cumb to a broken heart. He would hurry back to England ; 
he would see Mr. Colborne ; he would explain to the man 
how matters stood, he would drag him over to Paris, and 
all would yet be well. Because it was inconceivable that 
any human being could really prize Miss Rowley’s affec- 
tion above that of one so immeasurably her superior. 

When he had calmed down a little the Countess said : 
“I won't laugh at you; I have had an overdose of 
sanity lately, and my heart goes out to any one who is 
emotional enough to talk like a lunatic. Still, it remains 
true that lunacy can accomplish nothing, and that all the 
emotion in the world will not soften hard facts. One hard 
fact is that my husband will hear of my death with some 
decent regret and with a good deal of inward relief: 
another is that by this time next year — or shall we say 
two years hence ? — I shall have become a somewhat pain- 
ful memory to you. Allons ! Let us not quarrel with 
the Creator of our race, who, it must be assumed, had 
reasons for making us what we are. A pretty sort of 
existence we should lead if love were eternal, or if we 
were in sober reality as unselfish as we affect to be. All 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


38 1 

is for the best in the best sort of world that could have 
been constructed to hold us, and nothing that happens 
upon the surface of it is of supreme consequence. Never- 
theless, I offer you my apologies. I have had little con- 
sideration for you, and I have goaded you into exhibiting 
yourself as — well, as not precisely a preux chevalier . We 
wiU shake hands and forgive one another before we "Say 
farewell forever, riest-ce pas ?” 

After a time he complied with her request ; perhaps also 
by this time he has fulfilled her prediction respecting him ; 
for nothing can be more sadly certain than that love is 
not eternal and that bygone sufferings are unpleasant to 
look back upon. He remained in Paris and called repeat- 
edly to inquire after the Countess’s health at her door ; 
but he was never again admitted into her presence, nor 
was any prominent place assigned to him in her thoughts. 
There had been so many like him, or almost like him ! 
And none of them had come to a tragic end. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

LOO colborne’s letter. 

“Well, my dear girl,” remarked Lord Burcote to his 
daughter, with whom he had been temperately but 
fruitlessly reasoning during their railway journey from 
Dover to London, “all I can say is, I shouldn’t care to be 
in your shoes ! I’ve done the best I could for you ; I 
don’t want to bully you, and if you insist upon breaking 
off your engagement, I sha’n’t scold you — though I think 
it is a thousand pities. But don't you flatter yourself 
that your mother will let you off so easily as that ! ” 

“Oh, I know I shall catch it,” answered poor Lady 
Llorence dolefully ; “there’s no help for that. But she 
need never hear why I went to Paris, need she ? ” 

“She won’t hear it from me; but I’m afraid she will 
from you, unless you keep a pretty careful watch over 
*your lips. The whole thing looks so confoundedly sus- 
picious, don’t you see ! It will be easy enough to trump 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


382 

up some explanation of your having cut short your visit ; 
but why the deuce you should have changed your mind 
about Galashiels all of a sudden — that's what your mother 
will want to know ; and unless she gets some sort of a 
satisfactory reply ” 

“But no sort of reply could be satisfactory to her,” 
observed Lady Florence pertinently. 

“ H’m ! — well, no ; I suppose not.” 

For some moments Lord Burcote pensively studied the 
pages of the “ Field,” which he had just purchased; but 
probably it was not the perusal of the sporting intelligence 
that caused him to look up presently and say, with an air 
of calm decision, “ I shall go to Newmarket.” 

“Oh, how I wish you would take me with you!” 
sighed the girl. 

Lord Burcote grunted and retired behind his newspaper 
once more, so absurd an aspiration as that requiring no 
articulate response. Never in his life had he dreamt of 
taking a daughter of his to Newmarket, except on the 
occasion of some important race-meeting, and never had 
a daughter of his dreamt of requesting him to do so. It 
has already been intimated that his lordship was not a 
man of domestic habits. But now he began to ask him- 
self whether precedent might not be departed from for 
this once. It seemed rather too bad to run away from 
the impending storm and leave this poor little defenceless 
girl to bear the whole brunt of it ; Lady Burcote, he knew", 
would have people staying in the house for some time to 
come, and would therefore be unable to leave home ; 
angry letters might be endured w 7 ith equanimity, and if 
a respite is not quite the same thing as a reprieve, it is at 
least better than nothing. The outcofne of these cogita- 
tions was that he laid down the “Field” at length and 
said : 

‘ ■ Look here, Florry ; I'll tell what IT1 do with you, if 
you like. We won’t go home at all ; we’ll stop in London 
to-night and run down to Nev r market together to-morrow ; 
and then you can fire your shot from a distance. This is 
very good of me, you know, Florry.” 

“I should rather think it v 7 as !” exclaimed his grateful 
daughter ; and Lord Burcote was promptly rewarded by 
an embrace which it is to be feared he did not appreciate 
quite as highly as some other people might have done. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3S3 

“Don’t choke me,” he gasped; “and for the love of 
Heaven don't begin to cry ! Now, Florry, if you don’t stop 
crying at once, I'll send you straight home — I will indeed ! 
You will have plenty of excuses for weeping later on, you 
may depend upon it ; for the time being, we had better 
keep as cheerful as we can.” 

It is pleasant to be able to cite an instance of genuine 
kindness and courage on the part of this anything but 
exemplary old nobleman. Having taken his erring 
daughter under his protection, he did protect her to the 
utmost of his ability ; during several weeks he shielded 
her from the just and dire wrath of a lady who clamored 
daily, through the post, to get at her ; he likewise stood 
between her and Lord Galashiels, who journeyed down 
to Newmarket from Scotland, in a towering rage, to speak 
his mind. But neither Lord Burcote nor anybody else 
could do more than retard the progress of limping 
Nemesis, and Lady Florence, as she had anticipated, 
“ caught it in the long run. 

Perhaps she deserved to catch it ; perhaps her conduct, 
if not quite so infamous as her mother averred, had been 
of a nature to merit a few of the epithets which were 
hurled at her. For indeed, as things fell out, the affair 
proved a most unfortunate one, and the worst of it was 
that it was published abroad. Somebody — possibly Mr. 
Lindsay — must have been indiscreet ; everything, became 
known ; the news flew from mouth to mouth with aston- 
ishing rapidity ; and Lord Galashiels, so far from accept- 
ing his dismissal, indignantly claimed his release. 

“You have ruined yourself hopelessly and irretriev- 
ably ! ” was Lady Burcote’s greeting to her daughter 
when, after many delays, the delinquent was at length 
brought home. “The only thing that you can do now is 
to enter some hospital as a sick-nurse and never be heard 
of again. ” 

Lady Florence made the best retort that could have 
been made to this and to similar gibes by qualifying her- 
self for admission into an hospital in another capacity. 
She had no business whatsoever to fall ill, when there was 
nothing except fright and vexation the matter with her ; 
but ill she became, and the doctor had to be sent for, and 
the wretched man prescribed tonics and rest and change 
of air. As if she had not had more change of air than was 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3 8 4 

good for her already ! Lord Burcote, however, felt strong 
enough to insist upon obedience to medical orders ; so 
the culprit was packed off on a visit to an invalid aunt of 
hers who dwelt on the southern side of the Isle of Wight, 
thus, through no merit of her own, being delivered from 
purgatory. 

Meanwhile, the whole county, not to say the whole 
country, was discussing her adventure with the keenest 
interest ; and, amongst others, Mrs. Colborne, who had 
returned to Stoke Leighton to take care of her son, had a 
good deal to say upon the subject. Mrs. Colborne was 
of opinion that Helene’s behavior had been simply out- 
rageous, and she did not refuse herself the pleasure of 
expressing her opinion. 

“ One wouldn’t so much mind,” she said, “ if one didn’t 
feel that it has all been done on purpose.” 

“ Has any one suggested that it was done by mistake ? ” 
asked Douglas. 

“You know what I mean : it has been done on pur- 
pose to vex and embarrass you. She couldn’t have had 
any other motive.” 

“ But why should I be vexed and embarrassed ? I am 
neither the one nor the other ; and I remember that there 
was a time, not so very long ago,, when you couldn’t 
find words strong enough to express your admiration for 
Helene’s disinterested kindness to Frank.” 

“That was before all these distressing complications 
had arisen. Naturally, I wanted to think as well as I 
possibly could of my son’s wife ; I don’t think you ought 
to reproach me for that. I never liked your marriage and 
never wished for it. Heaven knows ! ” 

The marriage for which Mrs. Colborne had avowedly 
wished would doubtless have been a more suitable one, 
and she was perhaps entitled to grumble a little over the 
present unsatisfactory state of affairs. At all events, 
Douglas did not grudge her that solace, nor was he so 
unkind as to remind her that another marriage upon which 
she had set her heart had been rendered possible only 
through the very substantial aid contributed thereto by 
her daughter-in-law. Mrs. Colborne was, and knew her- 
self to be, such a thoroughly good and well-meaning 
woman that her conscience seldom gave her any 
trouble. 


. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


385 

Probably she meant well (though it is quite impossible 
to say what good object she can have had in view), by 
blowing Peggy Rowley's trumpet as loudly and persist- 
ently as she^did at this time. Peggy was entertaining a 
large circle of guests — important and influential guests, 
including a .bachelor baronet, well known in the political 
world, and a widowed viscount of the highest personal 
character and social standing. Both of them, it was 
rumored, were paying their addresses to her, and it- was 
extremely likely, Mrs. Colborne said, that she would end 
by accepting one or other of them. There was no reason 
why she shouldn't ; indeed, there was every reason why 
she should, except — and here Mrs. Colborne would inter- 
rupt herself with a deep sigh. 

From motives which will be understood, Douglas 
excused himself from accompanying his mother and his 
sister in their frequent visits to Swinford Manor, declining 
also two invitations to dine at that hospitable mansion. 
At the bottom of his heart he thought Peggy might have 
spared him those invitations. She had told him frankly 
that she had been more or less compromised by his 
society : did she want to convince him now that that 
inconvenience was a thing of the past ? Or was it her 
viscount or her baronet whom she desired to convince ? 
In either case, he preferred to remain at home, and we may 
be sure that he received a full and particular account of 
all Peggy s sayings and doings from Loo, whose indis- 
cretion knew no bounds. 

“My dear girl,’’ Douglas said to her at length (for in 
speaking to Loo it was permissible to make use of plainer 
language than could have been safely addressed to his 
mother), “there really is not the least necessity to keep 
on telling me what an idiot I have been. If I could begin 
my life over again, I shouldn’t be situated as I am ; but 
Providence, in its inscrutable wisdom, usually refuses to 
let us profit by the lessons of experience. I don’t wonder 
at your wishing that I had married Peggy Rowley ; but 
as I didn’t, and as I can’t, the only thing left for me to do 
is to look pleasant and buy her the prettiest wedding- 
present that I can afford. ” 

“You would if you could, then ?” asked Loo eagerly. 

“I didn’t say so ; it would have been very silly and 
slightly immoral of me to sa^ so. I only want you to 


THE COUNTESS RADNA . 


386 

realize that all these tacit rebukes of yours are, to say the 
least of them, superfluous. ” 

Loo, being a good deal more in awe of her brother than 
she was of Peggy Rowley, held her peace in the presence 
of the former, but faithfully reported his observations to 
the latter, who did not forbid her to take such liberties. 
Peggy, of course, only laughed ; still, it seemed possible 
that something so nearly resembling an avowal might 
lead her to pause before accepting either of the eligible 
candidates for her hand, and to produce that effect upon 
her was her informant’s object. Loo Colborne was one 
of those perfectly unselfish beings who are the salt of the 
earth and whose virtue must be its own reward, since it 
is never by any chance recognized ; yet so queer is the 
mixture of good and evil which constitutes our mortal 
nature that she actually exclaimed to herself, one evening, 
after she had said her prayers and was about to get into 
bed, “ If only Helene would die ! ” 

The very next morning a letter was brought to her 
which, it is but fair to say, filled her with the most 
poignant' grief and remorse. If all our hastily-muttered 
wishes could be gratified, some, though perhaps not all, 
of us might feel as sorry and as ashamed as Loo did when 
she read the following lines, written in a trembling hand 
which she did not at first recognize as that of one from 
whom she had had many previous epistles. 

“I am so ill,” the Countess Radna wrote, “that I can 
never be well again, and it is doubtful whether I shall 
ever leave my bed again. I wish to see Douglas once 
more before I die. Will you ask him to come to me ? 
And will you tell him that, if he comes, he will find me a 
much more reasonable and much less disagreeable person 
than I was when he saw me last ? There are a ' few 
things that I should like to say to him ; but they are nots. 
unpleasant things, and I will make no scene. Tell him 
that I was angry once and that I am not in the least angry 
now. When one is at the point of death everything looks 
different. I am too tired to explain, and you would not 
understand if I did ; only you will understand quite well 
when your own time comes. I wonder whether you will 
cry or whether you will jump for joy when this news 
reaches you ! Most likely you will do both ; for you are 
a dear, good little girl, and you deserve the best of hus- 


THE COUNTESS SAUNA. 


387 

bands. Whoever or whatever he may be, you are sure 
to think him the best of husbands, and I daresay that the 
most sensible clause in the long will which I executed 
the other day is that which will give you a little money 
to start housekeeping upon/' 

Neither the conclusion nor the preceding portion of the 
Countess’s letter caused Loo to jump for joy ; but she did 
weep copiously, and she lost no time in complying with 
her correspondent’s request. 

“ Oh, Douglas,” she sobbed, after her brother had rap- 
idly run his eye over the sheet of note-paper which she 
handed to him, “how dreadful it is! If I had only 
known that she was ill I would never have been such a 
brute ! You will go to her, won’t you ? ” 

“Of course I shall go,” answered Douglas, rather 
brusquely. “There’s an up-train at eleven o’clock. If 
you will tell my mother and beg her to excuse me for not 
saying good-bye to her, you will do me a real kindness. 
I may be absent for some time, and there are matters of 
business which must be attended to before I start. Do 
you see ? ” 

“Yes, I see, and I’ll manage so that you shall not be 
bothered,” answered Loo, who in truth was not so dull 
but that she could understand his meaning and his feel- 
ings. Her mother, she knew, would catechize him, sym- 
pathize with him, perhaps even offer to go to Paris with 
him ; whereas it was evident that he wished to be left 
alone, and that to leave him alone was the one and only 
thing that could be done for him. 

So Mrs. Colborne was provisionally informed of nothing 
more than that the Right Honorable gentleman would 
have to go up to town that morning to transact public 
business — which was strictly true. It would be time 
enough to make further revelations later in the day, Loo 
thought. 

Well was it for Douglas that public affairs really did 
claim all the attention that he could give to them until the 
hour of his departure from Charing Cross ; but when once 
he had seated himself in the train, the consideration of 
private affairs could no longer be postponed, and the 
more he considered them the more sad and despondent 
he became. All day long .he had been cherishing a half- 
acknowledged hope that matters were less serious than 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


388 

they had been represented and that he would reach his 
journey's end only to be laughed at by Dr. Schott ; but now, 
while the express rushed southwards through the night, 
and while by the light of his reading-lamp he perused 
again and again the ill-written lines which his sister had 
handed over to him, his heart sank. It might not be true 
— he trusted it was not — that Helene was dying ; but it 
was certain that she thought so, and certain also that she 
must be dangerously ill. Nothing else would ever have 
induced her to make that appeal. 

Now, Douglas Colborne was a straightforward, clear- 
headed man, and the gnawing remorse, which kept him 
broad awake all that long night through, was not due to 
any misgivings as to the course which he had adopted 
with respect to his wife since she had declared her inde- 
pendence of him. He did not see how he could have 
acted otherwise than as he had done ; he had simply com- 
plied with her wish, after making overtures which she had 
deliberately and even scornfully rejected; no reasonable 
being. could assert that he had treated her badly or that 
she had treated him well. Nevertheless, hard facts, un- 
answerable though they are, will not explain everything ; 
he had loved her once and she had once loved him : whose 
fault was it that that mutual love had been extinguished? 
Just because he was straightforward and clear-headed he 
was unable to grant himself a clean bill of indemnity. 
Extinguished their bygone love undoubtedly was : he had 
no illusion upon that point. She might have sent for him 
in order to forgive him ; but she assuredly had not sent 
for him in order to tell him that there had been any mis- 
understanding ; while he, on his side, could only confess 
that he repented of a marriage which she had forewarned 
him that he would regret. But would he have repented, 
and would she ever have ceased to love him, if he had 
been less cold and hard with her ? That was the question 
that troubled him. He did not, because he could not, 
formally ask himself another and a more pertinent question. 
Her jealousy of Peggy Rowley — if indeed she had been 
jealous — had been utterly devoid of excuse or foundation. 
Besides, he did not want to think about Peggy, who was 
going to marry Lord This or Sir Somebody That, who had 
been a friend of his and might possibly continue to be his 
friend, but who had evidently never dreamt of being any- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3S9 

thing more. He was so determined to banish Peggy from 
his mind that he thought of her almost as much as he did 
of his wife during the journey from Calais to Paris. 

But when he betook himself to the Avenue Friedland, 
the next morning, and when the Baroness von Bickenbach, 
weeping noisily, came into the deserted drawing-room to 
receive him, he forgot Peggy Rowley, forgot his wrongs, 
his doubts and his regrets, and realized only that his first 
love lay dying and calling for him. 

“Alas, yes!” sobbed Bickenbach, in answer to his 
first question, “ she is as ill as it is possible to be. The 
doctors all say so — we have, had four of them, and they 
can do nothing. Dr. Schott told me long ago that there 
was no hope ; but he did not think the end would come 
so soon, and I did not quite believe what he said. If I 
had, I should have taken it upon myself to write to you 
before now. And every hour she asks whether you have 
arrived yet ! ” 

Dr. Schott, who entered the room presently, was less 
agitated, but not less despondent. “You can see the 
Countess as soon as you please, sir,” said he ; “it will do 
her no harm to see you, because nothing can do her harm 
now. The disease has made unusually rapid progress 
and it has become a question of weeks — perhaps of days. 
I have done my best ; but the best that physicians can do 
in such cases as hers amounts to very little.” 

Douglas waved him aside not over-courteously. He 
had never liked the stout German doctor, who, to be sure, 
had never been very fond of him, and he did not care to 
Hsten to a medical diagnosis. He turned to the Baroness 
and begged her to let his wife know that he was there. 

“Oh, she has already been told,” answered Bickenbach, 
drying her eyes and thrusting her handkerchief into her 
pocket. “Please to follow me, and I will take you to 
her.” 


3 9 ° 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

RECONCILIATION. 

Douglas’s first impression, when he saw his wife sitting 
up in bed, wrapped in an elaborate and costly peignoi?' 
and covered up to her knees by an eider-down quilt of pale 
pink satin, was that he had been scared without sufficient 
cause. She did not appear to be dying ; she did not even 
look very ill. Her cheeks, it was true, had lost roundness 
of outline, but there was a bright color upon them, and 
her eyes also were bright and clear. Sickness — especially 
the kind of sickness which had her in its grip — admits of 
picturesque accessories, if only the sufferer be wealthy 
enough to indulge in them ; death does not always present 
itself under an ugly aspect, nor does it invariably frighten 
lookers-on by ghastly signs of its approach. Moreover, 
there was nothing tragic or affecting in the Countess’s 
salutation. 

* ‘ How good of you to have come at once ! ” she said, smil- 
ing pleasantly upon him. “ I ought to apologize for having 
sent such an urgent summons ; but really, when I wrote 
to your sister, it looked as if there was no time to be lost. 
Now I have taken a turn for the better, and I may hold on 
for a few more weeks^ or possibly months. N’est-ce-pas ? ” 
she added, turning to a Sister of Charity, who was sta- 
tioned by her bedside. 

“ Plait-il, madame ? ” returned the Sister, in those patient, 
melancholy accents which belong to her class and are as 
much a part of their equipment as their trailing robes, 
their white faces, and their unwearied watchfulness. 

“ You can leave us, via sceur ” said the Countess ; “ if I 
want anything, I will ring for you. You too, my good 
Bickenbach ; go away, and try to pick up a more cheer- 
ful countenance to bring back with you. • To confess the 
truth, it is not amusing to die ; but that is no reason why 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


391 


people who are going to live for a great many years yet 
should render the process additionally dismal by pulling 
long faces. While life lasts, let us make the most of it.” 

After her orders had been obeyed, she glanced at Doug- 
las, who had drawn nearer, and said : “ Don't you agree 
with me? Tears may be shed, and perhaps a few ought 
to be shed, when the lamentable event has occurred; but 
there is no necessity to take time by the forelock. That 
sort of thing, as Dr. Schott very truly says, is so discour- 
aging for the patient ! ” 

Douglas took his wife’s hand and looked down upon her 
with a pained and puzzled expression. “I can’t believe 
that your life is really in danger, Helene ! ” he exclaimed 
at length. 

“You would have believed it if you had seen me yester- 
day or the day before : one has ups and downs ; but one’s 
doom is sealed. If you think that I exaggerate, ask Dr. 
Schott, who has abandoned all clumsy attempts at pre- 
tense. Pray don’t put me to shame by imagining that I 
should have sent for you if I had been goingto recover.” 

Douglas, still holding her hand, dropped on his knees 
beside her. “Ah, don’t talk like that!” he entreated. 
“Whether you had sent for me or not, I should have come 
to you the moment that I heard that you were ill ; and, 
whatever you may say, I won’t give up hope of your re- 
covering yet. ” 

The Countess laughed. “ You will always be conven- 
tional, ” she remarked. ‘ ‘ After all, it would be too much to 
expect of any man that he should abstain from uttering 
conventionalities in such a situation. We will take them 
as having been uttered and .properly acknowledged, 
though, and we will proceed to business. First of all, I 
want to tell you about the will that I have made. I have 
not left you much : after thinking it over, I felt sure that 
you would not like to be enriched by me.” 

Douglas hastily shook his head, and immediately after- 
wards wished that he had been less precipitate and un- 
feeling. 

“ Naturally you would not,” resumed the Countess ; “no 
man could endure to feel that he was under any sort of 
obligation to a woman who had done her utmost to spoil 
his life for him. So I have only bequeathed you enough 
to keep people from asserting that we had had deadly 


39 2 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


quarrel. I have done what seemed to be the right thing 
for my relatives, who, as you know, are distant relatives, 
and I have distributed some trifling legacies amongst my 
friends, of whom your sister is^one ; but I have provided 
rather magnificently for Frank Innes. I hope you don't 
object to that? ” 

“ Why should I object? But, Helene ” 

“ Please, let me finish. Every now and then I get fits 
of coughing which reduce me to a state of total collapse, 
and I want' to say w'hat I have to say to you while I can. 
Of course you have heard of the fiasco that I made of my 
attempt to arrange a runaway marriage for Frank. I 
should like to repair it, if it isn’t irreparable, and I should 
think it might be repaired by means of money. Most 
misfortunes can be repaired in that way. At all events, I 
am sure Lord and Lady Burcote think so. ” 

“Oh, I dare say they do.” 

“And you will give the boy your support and do what 
you can to make two silly people happy, will you ? I 
grant you that it is silly to marry merely because one 
chances to be in love ; yet I am not sure that it isn’t some- 
times better to be silly than to be wise.” 

“ Of course I shall be very glad to promote Frank’s hap- 
piness, so far as it lies in my power to do so ; but I doubt 
whether he wants my support or whether it would be of 
the slightest use to him, ” answered Douglas. The truth 
was that he had not come all the way to Paris to talk 
about Frank Innes, and he could scarcely believe that he 
had been beckoned thither for that purpose. “ I don’t 
know why it should be considered silly to marry for love,” 
he added, presently. 

“ Don’t you ? Yet one would think that you ought to 
know, if anybody ought. But perhaps you will say that 
you were mistaken in imagining that you married from 
that motive. You certainly did imagine yourself in love 
at the time : the unfortunate thing is- that there is no test 
by which one can distinguish imagination from reality at 
such times.” 

“Did I deceive myself or did you, Helene?” asked 
Douglas sadly. “You told me at Luchon that you 
loved me ; you told me so many times after that, and I 
am sure you were speaking the truth. To this hour I am 
absolutely ignorant of what it was that made you change.” 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


393 


'‘ Are you so certain that I ever changed ? Hasn't it 
occurred to you that, if I had changed, I should have done 
as other people do and said nothing about it ? Those who 
don't care don't think it worth while to make a fuss. I 
admit that it isn't worth while to make a fuss even when 
one does care, and after a fashion I am sorry that I have 
caused you so much trouble and perplexity. But that is 
because I am going to die. If I were going to live, you 
wouldn’t be here now, and I shouldn’t be speaking to you 
so candidly." 

“But you aren't speaking candidly," Douglas protested. 
“Or, at least, if you are, you are not speaking compre- 
hensibly. Do you wish me to believe that you care for 
me still ; and that you only left me because you fancied 
that I had ceased to care for you ? " 

The Countess podded. “That," she replied, “is 
precisely what I wish you to believe ; and, since it is the 
fact, you can’t go far astray by believing it. No doubt I 
should have shown better taste if I had remained silent ; 
but death has its privileges, and the distinction between 
good and bad taste doesn’t strike me as particularly 
important now." 

“ Oh, Helene, why didn't you say this before ? As if I 
should ever at any time have dreamt of asking myself 
whether what you said to me was in good taste or not ! 
The long and the short of it seems to be that when you 
cast me off you were under some absurd misapprehen- 
sion." 

“ No, my dear Douglas, I was not under any misappre- 
hension. My eyes were wide open — as wide open as 
they are now — and I knew more about you then than you 
knew about yourself. Perhaps even more than you know 
at the present moment. I asked your sister to tell you 
that I had been angry once, and that I wasn't angry any 
more. That is perfectly true, and if I hadn't loved you, I 
dare say I might have gone on living with you, though I 
doubt whether I could have endured Stoke Leighton for 
more than a month or six weeks at a time. But as I did 
love you, it was necessary for me to leave you — voila ! 
I am not going to make a scene — I promised in that same 
letter that I wouldn't make a scene — but I had it in my 
mind to make this confession before taking leave of you 
and of life, and now it has been made. If you will accept 


394 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


it as an excuse and try to think kindly of me in the future, 
when you think about me at all, I shall be quite satis- 
fied. ” 

What was an honest man to do or say by way of 
response ? Douglas Colborne was an honest man ; but 
in his sorrow and self-reproach he committed himself to' 
statements which were not strictly veracious, and he was 
made to suffer for his well-intentioned and half-conscious 
duplicity. He was on his knees by his wife’s bedside and 
she was gently stroking his hair when she said : 

“You must not be so distressed ; you have nothing to 
accuse yourself of, and I have nothing to forgive. Every- 
body would tell you that I have been in the wrong from 
first to last, and everybody would be almost right. Not 
quite right, though ; because, as I say, there is still this 
excuse for me that I loved you and love you. And you 
don’t love me.” 

“Why won’t you believe that I love you? groaned 
Douglas. 

“ I believe that you are fond of me, and that is enough 
now. Only it wasn't enough then. Come, let us decide 
this question, once for all, and have done with protesta- 
tions which, if you will think of it, can’t really be of 
supreme consequence to a dying woman. Can you, upon 
your honor as an English gentleman, assure me that you 
love me more than you love Miss Rowley?” 

He might have answered that he did without telling a 
deliberate lie. At the moment he sincerely believed that 
he did. A thousand memories were stirring his heart and 
filling his eyes with tears ; he thought, and he was not 
mistaken in thinking, that he had become alienated from 
his wife by her treatment of him ; he perceived that her 
treatment of him had been neither unnatural nor unpar- 
donable, and he would have given ten years of his life to 
be able to blot out the events of the past twelvemonth. 
Yet he hesitated ; and when he spoke, his speech was 
not convincing. To swear that he had never breathed a 
syllable to Peggy Rowley which could have been construed 
as implying any warmer sentiment than that of friendship ; 
to mention that, if current rumors were correct, she was 
likely ere long to contract a matrimonial alliance with one 
of two or three gentlemen who were said to be attentive 
to her, and to accuse the Marchese di Leonforte of having 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


395 

listened to, and probably repeated, gossip for which there 
was not a shadow of foundation — all this scarcely met 
the requirements of the case. 

“ Allons /” said the Countess, when he had done ; “we 
will talk no more of Miss Rowley. I do not think that 
she will marry any of those gentlemen ; I think that she 
will marry you, and I hope that she will. Why should 
I not hope so, seeing that I wish your life to be a pleasant 
one, and that mine is so nearly at an end ? I see and 
know that you love me in one way, though not in the old 
way ; and I am contented. Please take my word for it 
that I am contented. Then we shall be able to talk 
together comfortably and happily as long as you can stay 
here. Only I can’t talk much more now. Would it be 
asking too^ much of you, I wonder, to beg you to remain 
in Paris for another week ? I am all alone, you see ; for 
the Sister is hardly a companion, and Bickenbach gets on 
my nerves with her suppressed sobs, and Dr. Schott has 
a way of looking at me as if he were calculating the exact 
number of days that his remedies might be expected to 
keep me alive.” 

Even if Douglas had not wished to remain in Paris for 
an indefinite length of time, he could not have resisted an 
entreaty of which the pathos was only enhanced by the 
cheerful accents in which it was expressed. But he did 
wish to remain, and he hoped, besides, that it might come 
within his power, after a time, to persuade his wife that 
she was mistaken as to his ulterior intentions. For the 
moment, it seemed best to. take her at her word, to ac- 
quiesce in her banishment of Peggy Rowley from the field 
of discussion, and to leave her to the repose which the 
Sister of Charity, who now appeared in answer to the bell, 
pronounced to bef imperatively necessary. 

He bent over her and kissed her on the forehead, 
promising that he would return the next day and every 
day, until 

‘ ‘ Until the end ? ” she. interrupted. 

“No'; until you begin to get better and tell me that 
you want to be rid of me.” 

Was there really a chance that she might get better? 
Dr. Schott declared that there was none — not the faintest. 
Yet even Dr. Schott had become less positive and less 
pessimistic at the end of a week, during which his patient 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


3 9 6 

certainly made a wonderful rally, and in the course of 
which her husband spent several hours with her daily. 

“Phthisis is a lingering- disease / 7 he told Douglas, on 
the expiration of the above-named period ; “nothing can 
be called absolutely impossible in the case of those who 
are afflicted with it, except complete restoration to health, 
and I do not deny, sir, that you have accomplished some- 
thing which is beyond the reach of medical science. It 
remains to be seen whether you will be able to carry on 
your work . 77 

Douglas was determined that he could and would. So 
far, he had not only been successful but had deserved 
success ; for he had been as patient, as considerate, and 
as unselfish as a man could be. Recognizing — rather 
dimly, it may be, yet recognizing — the errors of which he 
had been guilty in the past, he had accepted the part 
assigned to him by Helene ; he had refrained from agitat- 
ing her by explanations in which she probably would not 
have believed ; he had merely striven to show her, through 
those trifling attentions which women love, that she was 
dear to him, and he had made no reference to their recon- 
ciliation, beyond announcing, as a matter of course, that 
as soon as she was well enough to travel they would 
move southwards together. If his heart was aching all 
the time ; if he longed to confess that he had been blind 
and stupid, and if he had managed to convince himself 
that his first love was still his only love, he had the good 
sense and the forbearance to hold his peace upon such 
subjects. Perhaps she understood and was satisfied : she 
was, at all events, grateful to him and told him so. 

Bickenbach, for her part, was both grateful and 
jubilant. 

“Ah, dear sir,” the worthy woman exclaimed one day, 
“you have saved her life ; and from the beginning I have 
felt sure, that you could save her life, if you would ! I do 
not think that she will die now ; and I hope and pray 
that you have many years of happiness before you ; yet, 
if a misfortune were to happen 77 

“The misfortune isn't going to happen,” Douglas 
declared. 

“I trust not ; yet, if it did Most likely you do not 

feel as I do ; but to me it is terrible to think that my dear 
Countess might die without the consolations of religion. 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


397 


If you could but persuade her — you who have already 
accomplished a miracle — if you could but persuade her to 
see a priest ! ” 

Oddly enough, that concession was obtained from the 
invalid without any difficulty, when her husband asked it 
of her as a personal favor. 

“ I am only an ignorant sceptic, ”~she answered, “and 
the Holy Roman Church knows how to deal leniently with 
sceptics who have not learning to argue and would gladly 
believe, if they could. Select a priest of the right kind 
and he will not find me troublesome. When all is said, 
Christianity has no rival ; a compromise hasn’t yet been 
discovered between its incredible dogmas and the agnos- 
ticism which is only a mild synonym for atheism.” 

So the priest was found, and did his work after a fashion 
which was satisfactory to Bickenbach and, let us hope, 
satisfactory also to one who may have been a Christian 
without knowing it. For the rest, it seemed probable that 
ample time would still be allowed to him to inculcate any 
teaching that he may have deemed requisite because the 
Countess was now able to leave her bed for several hours 
every day, and though desperately weak, was in good 
spirits and free from pain. 

Yet neither priest nor husband nor any other mortal 
could really accomplish the miracle which poor Bicken- 
bach had hastily ascribed to one of them, and the calam- 
ity — if it was in truth a calamity — which bystanders had 
almost ceased to fear occurred at last quite suddenly and 
quietly. One afternoon the Countess had ’^lain down 
upon the sofa to rest for awhile, as it had become her 
custom to do, and had fallen asleep, when her labored 
breathing ceased. The Sister of Charity thought at first 
that she had fainted; but Dr. Schott, who was hastily 
summoned, pronounced life to be extinct, and Douglas 
Colborne, on reaching the house at his usual time, was 
met by the intelligence that he was a widower. 

The shock was a terrible one to him ; he did not get 
over it for many months ; perhaps he has not quite got 
over it even now and never will quite get over it, although 
he has long since recovered in the sense in which we 
must all recover of our sorrows unless we are to be killed 
by them. Whether Douglas had ceased to love his wife at 
the time of her death or not, he did not believe that he 


39 » 


THE COUNTESS KADNA. 


had’ceased to love her, and assuredly he was — to borrow 
the phrase which she herself had used — very fond of her. 
He had not said this to her in so many words, nor had he 
told her a hundred things which he had wanted to tell 
her ; and therefore it was that he could neither console 
nor forgive himself. 

Being, however, of a reserved temperament, and having 
learnt to control his emotions, he disappointed Bickenbach 
by his-abstinence from any loud demonstration of grief. 
The good Baroness thought him cold and heartless ; as 
did also the various distinguished personages with whom 
his wife’s death brought' him into temporary contact. A 
lady of such vast possessions and such exalted rank as 
the Countess Radna cannot die without causing numer- 
ous disturbances and complications, and with these it 
became Douglas’s immediate duty to deal. No doubt it 
was a good thing for him that he was thus forced to 
bestir himself ; no doubt, too, there were circumstances 
connected with his bereavement which rendered it less, 
hard to bear than it would have been, had it befallen him a 
year earlier ; yet he could not quite agree with his mother, 
who wrote to him in terms of the warmest sympathy, -and 
ended by expressing a pious conviction that Heaven had 
ordered all for the best. He knew very well what Mrs. 
Colborne meant by that, and he winced as he read the 
words. Unfortunately, he could not resent them ; for he 
felt that he had given her some right to hint at comfort of 
a nature which it was out of the question for him to- con- 
template. <■ 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

MRS. COLBORNE FEELS NO ANXIETY. 

One afternoon in mid-winter Frank Innes entered the 
drawing-room of Lord Burcote’s London residence in 
Eaton Square, the family having come up to town, as 
everybody must at some time between the first of Novem- 
ber and the first of January, in order to purchase clothes 
and Christmas presents. Lady Burcote, who was toast- 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


399 


ing her toes before the. fire, while she critically studied a 
collection of fashion-plates, rose as the young man 
advanced, and greeted him with much friendliness. 

“How do you do, Mr. innes ? ” said she. “Well; 
you have seen Florry, I suppose ? ” 

“ Yes ; I have seen her, thank you,” answered Frank ; 
“and, from what she tells me, perhaps I may take it that 
— in short, that it's all right.” 

“ Of course it is all right ; and I don't mind confessing 
to you that it would have been all right even if you hadn’t 
come into a fortune. You made it almost impossible for 
the girl to marry any one but you by your behavior in the 
autumn — which was all wrong. I dare say you will ac- 
knowledge now that your behavior was about as infa- 
mous as it could be.” 

“I will acknowledge anything you like, Lady Burcote, ” 
answered Frank, laughing. 

“Oh, it doesn’t matter, since that poor, dear woman 
has made every reparation in her power by dying and 
leaving you rich ; only you couldn’t have known that she 
was going to do either the one or the other, and you don’t 
seem to have troubled yourself much to think about the 
inevitable consequences of your actions. A nice position 
you would have landed us in if we had had to marry our 
daughter to a professional singer who had no more chance 
of making money professionally than any other clever 
amateur! And,’ as I told Lord Burcote at the time, that 
is just what we should have had to do, if you had insisted ; 
because nobody else would have looked at the girl after 
such an esclandre . By the way, I trust that you have 
given up all idea of singing in public. ” 

“ Oh, yes ; I'll undertake never to sing in public, if you 
had rather I didn’t : under the circumstances, it isn’t 
necessary. All the same, I believe I should have suc- 
ceeded. ” 

“You are most welcome to cherish that belief, I’m 
sure ; and you are welcome, into the bargain, to other 
successes which you haven’t exactly earned. Of course 
you set me down as a worldly and unnatural mother.” 

“If I did, I shouldn’t be rude enough to say so,” Frank 
declared. 

“Not to my face, you mean ; you wouldn t hesitate to 
say so behind my back, and no doubt you have said so 


400 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


scores of times. But if, by an impossibility, you were a 
mother, and if you hadn’t too much money, and if you 
had a troop of daughters, and if it were your duty — as it 
certainly would be— to find husbands for them, you would 
understand that what looks like selfishness isn’t really 
selfishness. What personal profit do you suppose that I 
could ever have got out of Lord Galashiels ? If he had 
asked me to stay with him for a week in the course of the 
year, that is about all that he would have felt bound to do 
for me. No, my dear Mr. Innes ; the people who sneer at 
match-making mammas might find plenty to sneer at in 
themselves, if they cared to look for it, and though I 
don’t pretend to be romantic or quixotic, I may at least 
claim to be no hypocrite. You are welcome because an 
extraordinary caprice on the part of the Countess Radna 
(whose memory I shall always bless) has made you 
wealthy. You wouldn’t have been welcome if you had 
been poor ; but, as I told you just now, you would have 
been accepted, nevertheless, because there would have 
been no alternative. I have far more right to abuse you 
than you have to abuse me ; but I won’t insist upon my 
rights. Let us shake hands and say no more about it.” 

Frank willingly assented. He was nothing if not good- 
matured ; he could not but admit that Lady Burcote put 
her case plausibly, and no sensible man wishes to start 
upon bad terms with his mother-in-law. Besides, he 
could not for the life of him have quarrelled with any one 
at that moment. Fortune had. treated him more than 
kindly ; he was yoting, he was healthy, he was rich, and 
the girl whom he loved had just given him assurances 
which were in every respect satisfactory. With very 
slight additional provocation, he would have kissed Lady 
Burcote ; though there could be no sort of certainty as 
to the effect of such a salute upon her ladyship’s com- 
plexion. 

Lady Burcote, it may be assumed, was not ambitious 
of being embraced by the young man upon whom she 
had decided to bestow her only unmarried' daughter ; for 
she soon dismissed him, with the comforting remark that 
he need not trouble to approach her husband with any 
formal demand. 

“I will answer for Lord Burcote, ” she said. “For 
reasons best known to himself, he has been posing as 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


401 


Florry’s best friend all this time, and he will be delighted 
to hear that I, who am in reality her best friend, am per- 
fectly satisfied to let her have her own way. I trust you 
have had the common decency to pay a handsome sum 
in order that masses % may be said for the repose of the 
Countess Radna’s soul.” 

Frank, it must be owned, had neglected to perform that 
act of gratitude ; but he was not ungrateful, nor was he 
free from a certain sense of shame in his exultation. Yet 
it was no fault of his that the Countess Radna’s death had 
brought him happiness, and perhaps it would not be any- 
body’s fault if a similar result should prove to have been 
produced in the case of the Countess’s husband. He had 
not seen his cousin since the melancholy event which had 
brought about a voluminous correspondence between 
them ; but he was to go down to Stoke Leighton that 
evening, and he endeavored, on the way, to rehearse an 
interview which he perceived would call for some little 
display of tact on his part. Douglas, he had been given 
to understand, had inherited but a small portion of his 
late wife’s wealth ; he himself had inherited a very large 
portion of it ; and it seemed doubtful whether he ought to 
look sad or glad or apologetic or simply blank. 

Mrs. Colborne, who received him on his arrival, set his 
mind at rest. 

“Douglas has felt the shock a good deal,” she said ; 
“but he is getting over it, and he evidently doesn’t care 
to talk about it. You had better not condole with him. 
Your good luck has given him the greatest pleasure, and 
he is in hopes that you have brought him some other news 
upon which he may congratulate you. You have ? Well, 
I am sincerely glad to hear it ; and so, I am sure, will he 
be. Poor Helene ! One does most sincerely grieve 
to think that her life should have been cut short ; and 
yet — — ” 

“And yet one can’t help rejoicing. It is rather base 
and disgusting of us, isn’t it ? ” 

Mrs. Colborne declared the firm conviction that neither 
she nor Frank was capable of rejoicing over a calamity 
which they had been powerless to avert ; but resignation, 
she pointed out, was a virtue, not a crime ; and surely it 
was not forbidden to survivors to recognize and return 
thanks for any compensating circumstances that might be 


4-02 


THE COUNTESS RADNA, 


attendant upon the death of one whom they had loved. 
She hinted so plainly at one compensating- circumstance 
which she conceived to exist as regarded her son that 
Frank ended by saying point-blank : . 

“You really think he will marry Miss Rowley, then? ’ 

“ Oh, I don't for a moment say that he will ; although, 
as I dare say you know, the match would be one that I 
have always wished for. But I wouldn’t for the world 
question him ; and indeed I know nothing about it. All I 
know is that she has lately refused two very good offers, 
and that she has now started off on a voyage round the 
world with a party of her friends.” 

“ So that, if she has started East, and if he were to start 
West ” 

“ Oh, but of course he won’t. How could he, with his 
official duties to attend to ? Only, perhaps, when she re-. 

turns However, we shall see what we shall see. 

For Heaven’s sake, don’t repeat anything that I have said 
to him.” 

Frank did nothing so foolish as that ; nor, after a long 
talk which he had with his cousin in the course of 
the evening, did he feel by any means as confident as 
Mrs. Colborne appeared to feel that her son would face a 
second time the risks and disillusions of matrimony. 
Douglas spoke cheerfully enough and assumed no broken- 
hearted airs ; but he was altered, he was perceptibly older, 
and the advice -with which he thought fit to season his 
congratulations sounded like that of a man who has 
played the game, has failed at it, and does not mean to 
play any more. Such advice is seldom worth much, and 
is never considered to be worth anything by those to 
whom it is addressed ; but Frank listened good-humoredly, 
suppressing his smiles and inwardly flattering himself 
that he was in no danger of falling into the errors against 
which he was cautioned. Only, when Douglas had 
concluded his homily, he made so bold as to remark : 

“What you say would be very much to the point, old 
man, if Florry didn’t care a hang for me, and if I didn’t 
care a hang for her ; but, you see, that isn’t the state of 
the case.” 

“I suppose,” returned his monitor, “ that the generality 
of people are in love when they marry ; but a great many 
of them, if not the generality, hasten to fall out of love, 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


403 


because they don’t know how to give and take! At least, 
I am acquainted with one lamentable instance which sup- 
ports my theory.” 

“Well — of course I don’t know all the circumstances, 
and I mustn’t presume to judge. Besides, I am not sure 
that I understand exactly what your theory is. You 
sound as if you meant that it was a mistake to marry at 
all.” 

“ I shouldn't be surprised if that was what I do mean,” 
answered Douglas, with a laugh; “but I am not insane 
enough to expect you to agree with me. Try to under- 
stand your wife and to make allowances for her, that’s all. 
I did neither ; so that I have no more right to preach than 
has a man who has disregarded the rules of the game and 
lost it though his own stupidity.” 

“ There is such a thing as a second innings,” Frank 
ventured to observe. 

“ Of course there is, at some games ; but a duffer does 
well to recognize that he is a duffer and retire. Added 
to which, my mother, who has been endeavoring, I am 
sure, to convince you that there ought to be a second 
innings at all games, has a happy knack of believing 
everything that she wishes to believe. The gift isn’t 
hereditary, I am sorry to say — or glad to say. At any 
rate, I think she may safely make arrangements for sit- 
ting at the head of my table until the end of the chapter.” 

Frank had the good sense to drop the subject and to 
dilate upon his own happy prospects till it was time to 
go to bed. But when, on the following day, he rode over 
to Swinford Manor, to pay his respects, as in duty bound, 
to a valuable ally of his, he was plainly told that his 
prospects, however interesting they might once have been, 
were no longer worthy to be compared in importance with 
those of a lady who had abruptly and without sufficient 
ostensible cause closed her house and abandoned her terri- 
torial responsibilities in order to visit the Antipodes., 

“ Lupky you have been, sir,” Peter Chervil said, “and 
Tain’t me as begrudges you your luck. Nor yet I don’t 
begrudge her Ladyship nothin’ ; though, as regards of 
my share in bringin’ about this here marriage, I’rrf bound 
to say as she ain’t hardly done justice to it. Not so far. 
For ’tis a risky thing, you see, sir, for a man in my posi- 
tion to be deliverin’ of billys on the sly. Howsomever, I 


404 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


don't make no account of that : ’tis settled and done with ; 
and glad I am as 'tis settled and done with. But what I 
want to know, sir/' continued Peter, straightening his 
shoulders and laying down the syringe with which he had 
been deluging a spray of steqhanotis, “ is this. What’s 
gom’ to be settled between Miss Peggy and our Member 
o’ Parliament ? Is he goin’ to come forrard or is he not ? 
Because in my opinion he did ought for to come forrard, 
and I don’t mind your tellin’ him from me as my vote 
depends upon it. Radical I am ; but there’s Tories as is 
more Radical nor me, from all I hear, and what I says 
is, I votes for a man as I can respect. Now, I don’t feel 
no respect for a gentleman as can’t speak up for hisself ; 
nor I don’t see no sort o’ sense in sendin’ them as should 
be at home, mindin’ their own business, off to forrin parts 
for a year, or maybe eighteen months.” 

“Give him time, Mr. Chervil,” pleaded Frank. “You 
must remember that he hasn’t been very long a widower 
and that public decency has to be considered.” 

“ I’ll give him till next election, sir. If he ain’t done 
his dooty afore then, I’ll do mine — which will be to vote 
agin’ him. Likewise to indooce others for to do the same. 
Maybe you think as a gardener didn’t ought for to meddle 
with what consarns his betters; but I’ve kep’ my 'eyes 
and ears open, and I know What I know. And what I’ve 
said to you, sir, .1 shall be obliged if you’ll say to Mr. Col- 
borne. ” 

Frank, it is needless to state, did not deliver this belli- 
cose message to Peter Chervil's parliamentary representa- 
tive ; but he could not resist mentioning it to Mrs. Col- 
borne, who was much diverted. 

‘ ‘ Y our friend is quite right, ” said she ; “I entirely agree 
with him as to Peggy’s reasons for having fled the country, 
and I am as clear as he is about Douglas’s duty. Only, 
as you very truly say, one must have patience and allow 
time to do its work. The world goes round, and people 
who can afford it go round the world; but all roqds lead 
to Rome. Personally, I don’t feel the slightest anxiety 
about the result of the next election.” 

The sentiments of the Right Honorable Douglas Col- 
borne’s constituents have not been tested since the above 
confident declaration on his mother’s part ; but at the 
present time of writing a general election is known to be af 


THE COUNTESS RADNA. 


405 


hand, and it is not impossible that a considerable number 
of votes may follow that of Peter Chervil. Nobody really 
knows — though a great many people pretend to know — the 
motives which sway the uninstructed voter ; and indeed, 
for the matter of that, none of us can do more than guess 
at the motives whereby our nearest neighbors are in- 
fluenced. It may, however, fairly be conjectured that 
the Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs has not devoted 
his summer holiday to a voyage across the Atlantic 
merely in order to study the working of the United States’ 
system of government, while it is an ascertained fact that 
Miss Rowley and her friends will arrive at New York 
from San Francisco about the time when he is due to 
reach that city. 

After all, a man must needs fulfil his manifest destiny, 
however devious may be the paths that lead him to it ; 
and it would be a thousand pities if two neighboring 
properties, neither of which is as yet provided with a 
direct heir, were to remain severed and thus bereft through 
over-strained scruples or misgivings. Douglas Colborne, 
and Peggy Rowley are still young ; life still lies before 
them ; the present and the future are still theirs ; and it 
is to be expected, as well as hoped, that neither of them 
will^ast many more backward glances at that past which 
lies buried under the mountain of marble that marks the 
Countess Radna’s tomb. 


THE END, 













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James Matthew Barrie’s Works 


“Gbe Dickens of Scotland,” 

v 


“ Mr. Barrie is dowered with a photographic power of reproducing what he sees, 
a humor which plays gently around whatever topic it touches, and a style distinctive 
in the possession of certain qualities as irresistible as they are delightful.” 

—Philadelphia Press. 


“ His humor is as fresh as his pathos, and his knowledge of the subtle complexi- 
ties of Scotch character go far beyond that of his predecessors.” 

— Boston Literary World. 


The Little Minister. 

By J. M. Barrie. Fine cloth edition, with full-page illustra- 
tions. i2mo, cloth, gilt, $1.25 ; paper, 50 cents. 

KIRRIEMUIR EDITION. 

In two vols., post 8vo, gilt top, $6.co. 

Printed from new plates on laid paper. Tastefully bound in vellum and gold. Illustrated with 
ten superb etchings by G. W. H. Ritchie, printed on Van Gelder’s hand-made Holland paper. 


EDITION DE LUXE. 

Large paper, limited to 260 copies, signed and numbered. Printed on Van Gelder's hand-made 
Holland paper, embellished with exquisite initial letters in blue and red, and illustrated with nine 
superb etchings and an etched frontispiece portrait of the author, printed on Imperial Japanese 
paper. A duplicate set of etchings in bistre are inserted in each set. , 


“A work of front-rank importance.” — Philadelphia Press. 


“ ‘ The Little Minister ’ is a great novel.” — New York Press. 

“ The story is sweet and human from the first word to the last ” 

— St. Paul Globe. 

“ A wonderful reflection of the lights and shadows of Scottish life.” 

— Philadelphia Ledger. 

“ It is a poetical, passionate story, with a plot so romantic as to appear quite old- 
fashioned.” — The Nation. 

“ An uncommonly strong novel, full of the most effective contrasts and the most 
piquant scenes of Scotch life.” — New York Tribune. 

“ k The Little Minister ’ is a masterpiece. There is not a mistake in it. Every 
character is perfectly natural, not a word nor an action is artificial.” 

— Kansas City Star. 

“ There is uncommon power in the delineation of character, and both the pathos 
and humor of the book are true and fine.” — Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 


Lovell, Coryell & Company, Publishers, New York. 


JAMES MATTHEIV BARRIE'S IVORKS — Continued. 

Two of Them. 

By J. M. Barrie. With ten full-page illustrations. i2mo, 
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In “ Two of Them, and Other Stories” Mr. Barrie has given us a book after the 
manner of “When a Man’s Single ” It is in the lighter vein of the humorous Eng- 
lish journalist, rather than in that of the strong and quaint depictor of Scottish char- 
acter. The stories are bright and entertaining, worthy of the pen of a Dickens All 
are delightful reading, and will add pleasantly to the reader’s knowledge of the 
striking literary and intellectual qualities of one of the strongest and most picturesque 
of modern writers. 


A Tillyloss Scandal. 


By J. M. Barrie. The Only Complete Edition. i2mo, cloth, 
gilt top, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 

“ The tale is a delightful one, and one which is worthy to be placed with the 
idylls of Thrums .” — Boston Courier . 

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Mr. Barrie, who is assuredly master of his craft .” — Philadelphia Public Ledger. 

“ ‘ A Tillyloss Scandal ’ is a most attractive tale, and is characterized by many of 
the charming qualities that distinguish ‘ The Little Minister .’” — New York IVorld. 



Licht 



By J. M. Barrie. i2mo, cloth, gilt top, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 

“A charming collection of studies of Scotch peasant character written in a de- 
lightful manner. There is uncommon power in the delineation of character, and the 
pathos and humor of the book are in Barrie’s best vein. In brief, these studies are 
of exceptional merit ; remarkable for their vivid word picturing and fidelity to 
nature .” — Providence Journal. 


A Window in Thrums. 


By J. M. Barrie, nmo, cloth, gilt top, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 

“A work which will long retain many admirers, for its cleverness, delightful 
character-drawing, and freshness are more than fleeting .” — Boston Times. 

“ The simplicity which marks ‘A Window in Thrums’ is delightful. The quaint 
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pathy in its simple annals .” — Boston Globe. 


Lovell, Coryell & Company, Publishers, New York. 


JAMES MATTHEIV BARRIE'S WORKS — Continued. - 


When a Man’s Single. 

By J. M. Barrie. 12010, cloth, gilt top, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 

“ A budget of quaint conceits, witty epigrams, and Barrie's own peculiar humor.” 

— New York World. 

“ A remarkably interesting novel because of its vivid character-drawing and the 
skill with which a scene is brought before the eye by a few sharp touches ” 

— Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 

“The language in ‘When a Man's Single’ is undefiled by one extravagance or 
indifference, and his delicious sketches of English newspaper routine are brimful of 
life-like color and rich humor.’’ — Chicago News. 


An Edinburgh Eleven. 

* 

Pencil Portraits from College Life. By J. M. Barrie. i2mo, 
cloth, gilt top, $1.00. 

“With no disparagement to Barrie’s fiction, we must say that in these very 
Scotch and delightful sketches he is at the top of his style. Nothing could be more 
fascinating to one who enjoys the spell of highly original prose than these essays in 
reminiscence.”— Brooklyn Times. 


Better Dead, and My Lady Nicotine. 

By J. M. Barrie. i2mo, cloth, gilt top, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 


The same delicacy of touch, the same multiplicity of ideas, presented in short, 
pregnant sentences, clear cut and telling to a marked degree, is conspicuous in 
Barrie’s first work as well as in his last. “ Better Dead,” a strong character sketch, 
gives evidence of this, and from those who read the story, it will call forth another 
vote of praise for the author of “ The Little Minister.” 

“ My Lady Nicotine” is a veritable “study in smoke,” and will therefore appeal 
the more strongly to those who are lovers of the weed. Yet in no sense are these 
delightful essays for one class only, for no one can fail to appreciate their delicate 
humor and fine character sketching, as well as their unmistakable literary value. 


Barrie’s Complete Works. 

In sets. 8 vols., i2mo, beveled cloth, gilt top, $8.50; half calf, 
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Marie Corelli’s Works. 


“ An author exhibiting rare skill as a fascinating and highly 
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engage human attention . ’’—Problem of J^ife. 


The Soul of Lilith. 

By Marie Corelli. 121110, cloth, gilt, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. 

“ A novel of high purpose and artistic execution, chaste and elevating in tone.” 

— New York World. 

“Ihe best mystical story that has appeared since the days of Bulwer’s ‘Zanoni.’ ” 

— Philadelphia Public Ledger. 

“ Original in essence, radical in suggestion, startling in development. * The Soul 
of Lilith ’ is not a book to hurry through and dismiss. It deserves and demands 
thought, and repays it. There must be many who are waiting for such a vindication of 
the ways of God to men, and to those the book will bring a strength and comfort that no 
words can express.” — Boston Times. 


Wormwood. 

By Marie Corelli. i2mo, cloth, gilt top, $1.00; paper, 50 
cents. 

“A strange and fascinating book.” — New York World. 

" The work thrills with the intellectual energy of a brilliant woman.” 

— Detroit Tribune. 

“This strong romance is an extremely realistic study of the horrible demorali- 
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true vigor and efficiency, together with artistic reserve and moderation. In ‘ Wormwood’ 
Miss Corelli has scored a real success, employing to a worthy end an art in the line of 
the most popular French writers.” — Boston Literary World. 


Vendetta, and My Wonderful Wife. 

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In all of Marie Corelli’s writings there is a vein of weird mysticism which sug- 
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by an absorbing interest which is so intense that an interruption is almost like an 
awakening from the dreams of sleep. 


Lovell^ Coryell & Company. Publishers. New York, 


MARIE CORELLI'S WORKS— Continued. 


Thelma. 

A Norwegian Princess. By Marie Corelli. i2mo, cloth, gilt, 
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“ One of the strongest stories that has appeared this season. It is laid in Norway 
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“ A novel that should be read when appreciation needs no spur, for it is one that 
will engage the reader’s best attention. The characters have been carefully studied and 
are pictured with equal care and effect of reality.” — Boston Times. 


Ardath. 


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“Ardath” is undoubtedly one of Marie Corelli’s strongest creations. It is writ- 
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will delight the great number of readers who revel in the literature of the unknowable. 


A Romance of Two Worlds. 


By Marie Corelli. i2mo, cloth, gilt, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 

“ A Romance of Two Worlds ” by Marie Corelli has been one of the most successful 
novels published in America during the last five years. The field of occultism is invaded 
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actual experiences are being related. It would seem from the text that there are those 
who have received the gift of peering into the mysteries of the future, and depicting its 
events as graphically as does the historian the events of the past. 


Complete Works of Marie Corelli. 

V 

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A. Conan Doyle’s Works. 


My Friend, the Murderer, 

and Other Mysteries and Adventures. By A. Conan 
Doyle, author of “ The White Company,” “ Micah Clarke,” 
etc., etc. i2mo, cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cents. 

The present volume comprises certain sketches which resemble in brilliancy a 
series of well-executed flash-light pictures. In the entire work, Dr. Doyle has 
exhibited his usual ingenuity in the formation of fascinating and thrilling narratives, 
notably that of “My Friend, the Murderer,’' from which the volume receives its 
title. With few exceptions, these stories are of Australian life and character, and 
are invariably humorous, thrilling, and absorbing. 


The White Company. 

By A. Conan Doyle, author of “ The Firm of Girdlestone,” 
etc. Profusely illustrated. 8vo, cloth, $1.25; paper, 50 
cents. 

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the greater romances which prove their immortality by this, that their spirit is * all flame 
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“ No living writer of fiction is happier at historical romance than A. Conan Doyle, 
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The Sign of the Four. 


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Lovell, Coryell & Company, Publishers, New York. 


a 




A. CONAN DOYLE'S WORKS— Continued, 


The Firm of Girdlestone. 

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Micah Clarke. 


By A. Conan Doyle. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 

f 

“ A remarkable work .” — Boston Post. 

“ A volume that is replete with fascinating historical pictures — the language is 
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The Doings of Raffles Haw. 


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50 cents. 

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“ k The Doings of Raffles Haw ’ is a clever example of modern ingenuity in fiction, 
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kinds of wealth .” — Brooklyn Daily Eagle. 


Complete Works of A. Conan Doyle. 

In sets. 6 vols., !2mo, cloth, $6.00; half calf, gilt top, $12.00. 


Lovell, Coryell & Company, Publishers, New York. 


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